


This Will Be

by elliex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Based loosely upon While You Were Sleeping, Bobby & Ellen Are Co-Conspirators, Castiel is a clerk, Chance Meetings, Charlie's an Adopted Winchester, Christmas, Christmas & Holiday Festivities, Confessions, Dean works in the family business, Destiel Fluff, Ellen & Bobby keep everyone in line, Empathy, Estranged Winchester Brothers, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Resolutions, First Kiss, Friendship, Gas 'N Sip, Happy Ending, John has anger issues, M/M, Masturbation, Not an accurate reflection of medical practices, Orphan Castiel, Phone calls between concerned will-be boyfriends, Reference to deaths of Charlie's biological parents, References to Drug Use, Rom-com, Sam is a student, Slow Burn, Teen Charlie, Uh-oh, Will John Get Tasered?, Winchester Arguments, family tensions, misunderstandings abound, nice neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliex/pseuds/elliex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is loosely based on the 1995 film _While You Were Sleeping_. </p><p>After the death of his father, Castiel feels all alone in the world, but he's beloved by many, from his landlord to his boss. </p><p>A chance meeting with a beautiful man named Dean reignites Castiel's hope for his future, but an accident puts Cas and his friend Sam in the hospital. Everyone thinks that he and Sam are engaged, which is awkward enough... until he realizes that Sam is Dean's estranged brother, and life is suddenly very, very complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“_ This will be an everlasting love…

This will be the one I’ve waited for…

This will be the first time anyone has loved me…” 

["This Will Be" - Natalie Cole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lswB6q2t_6c)

 

\+ + +

 

The wind cut through Castiel’s thin coat, and he pulled it more tightly around his body. Tears tracked down his face as he surveyed his father’s simple grave: Emmanuel Collins, 1966-2013.

 

“I miss you, dad,” he said softly. He lay the cluster of chrysanthemums he'd gotten from the corner store gently onto the stone. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

 

He checked his watch and realized he only had thirty minutes to get to work. With a sad sigh, he began the long walk to the Gas ‘N Sip. He picked up his pace once he left the cemetery because he couldn’t be late – as usual, he was the only one able to work today.

 

As soon as Castiel clocked in, Gabriel clocked out. “Sorry to cut and run, Cassie,” his manager said, “But Kali will have my head if I don’t get home in time to carve the turkey.”

 

Castiel smiled, willing himself to look happy for his manager and friend. “I hope you have a good holiday,” he said.

 

Gabriel patted him on the back. “I appreciate your taking the long shift,” he said. “If anything goes wrong, call me on my cell – but I really hope nothing goes wrong.” As Gabriel left through the front door, he called back, “I left you something under the counter. Happy Turkey Day, kid!”

 

Castiel took a moment to check out his surprise – a fresh, homemade peach pie. It smelled delicious, and Castiel made sure it was safely stowed, sparing a thought of thanks for Gabriel and his unsurpassed baking skill. He pulled a novel – the latest in the _Supernatural_ series by Carver Edlund – from his coat’s pocket and put it beside the pie. If his shift turned out to be as quiet as he hoped, he’d enjoy a slice later and do some reading.

 

The store stayed relatively empty, and the customers who did drop in weren’t their usual clientele. These were people traveling to and from family gatherings, and Castiel couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of their good fortune. He really hadn’t clicked with many of their patrons, but he’d hoped to see some of the students he considered friends – or, at least, friendly acquaintances. There were a lot of nearby apartment complexes that rented to students, and they’d often come in to use the free wifi. Gabriel had gone so far as to install a small café area, along with an espresso machine. Castiel wasn’t sure how much profit was made from the investment, though. He had a sneaking suspicion that Gabriel had just wanted an excuse to buy fancier coffees than the Gas N’ Sip chain usually stocked. He was grateful for Gabriel’s innovation, though. Talking with the students helped Castiel feel more in touch with the world. He’d dropped out of school to help care for his father in the last months of his illness, and then he’d had the funeral and the medical bills to pay for – Castiel wasn’t sure if or when he’d be able to return to school, but talking with them helped him remember that there were options in the world. He just had to have faith.

 

Suddenly, he remembered his father telling him, “Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan, Castiel. Be open to possibility.” Castiel smirked as he cleaned out the slushee machine, cursing when blue goo spilled out all over the floor. “I wish I’d known you were talking about my life,” he muttered to himself, as he got on his hands and knees to wipe up the mess.

 

“Uh – excuse me?,” said a deep voice from behind Castiel.

 

Castiel felt a flash of annoyance – surely the guy could see he was busy? – but he looked up anyway and … _holy shit_. This guy was beautiful, and his moss-green eyes were looking at Castiel with concern.

 

“Everything okay?” the guy asked, just as Castiel asked, “Can I help you?”

 

The guy blushed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but something’s wrong with the card readers on the pumps. I tried 3 and 4, but neither worked.”

 

Castiel stood, his annoyance completely forgotten. “The system probably needs to be reset. Can you wait a few minutes?”

 

The guy shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got a phone call to make, anyway.”

 

Castiel walked behind the counter and checked the computer. He was definitely going to have to reboot the system, and he said a quick prayer that he wouldn’t need to call Gabriel. He flipped open the notebook and pulled out the appropriate trouble-shooting guide and started going through the steps, surreptitiously watching the man, who’d stepped back outside, dial his cell and hold it to his ear.

 

Castiel was troubled by the way the man’s brow furrowed, the way he hunched his shoulders. He looked like he was in pain. The call ended, and the man held his phone to his forehead a moment, his head bowed. The man stalked back into the store just as the system beeped back to life.

 

“That was fast,” the guy observed.

 

“I suppose,” Castiel answered warily. It actually hadn’t been fast at all, but the man had obviously been preoccupied. He took in the redness of the man’s eyes, the tightness of his jaw. “I, um, don’t mean to pry, but are you okay?”

 

The man huffed a dry laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Not really.” He came to stand in front of the register and rapped his knuckles on the counter top in an off-beat cadence. “I was trying to get in touch with my brother, but he won’t see me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, and he really was. He would have loved to have a sibling, and he couldn’t imagine shutting one out who cared as much as this man seemed to.

 

“Eh, what are you going to do?,” the man asked, his tone debonair even though his heartbreak was etched across his face. “I screwed up, and he won’t forgive me for it.”

 

“Have you apologized?” Castiel asked, wincing as the man recoiled. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I didn’t mean to –”

 

“No, no, it’s a fair question,” the man answered. “And, yeah, I did. He’d gotten tangled up with some drug dealing harpie, and when I told him she was bad news, he got pissed. I was proven right, but he can’t forgive me for being right.” He spread his hands. “I’m sorry I was right, and I’m sorry I busted his balls for it. But I’m not sorry that the relationship ended. So my apologies aren’t enough right now.”

 

“Maybe someday they will be,” Castiel offered, wanting so badly to say something that would make this man feel better.

 

“Maybe,” the guy acknowledged. “Hey, is the coffee back there fresh? I’ve got a long drive ahead of me, and I need caffeine in a bad way.”

 

“Why don’t I make you a fresh pot?,” Castiel asked with a smile.

 

The guy cocked his head and smiled widely at Cas. “Really? You’d do that?”

 

“It’s a small thing,” Castiel answered. “I don’t mind.” It only took a few minutes to clean out the grounds from that morning and start a fresh pot.

 

“I’m Dean, by the way,” the man said, taking a seat at one of the small café tables.

 

“Castiel. It’s nice to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better.”

 

“Me too, Cas. Me too.” Dean eyes held such sadness that Castiel’s heart broke a little. He wanted to put his arms around Dean and tell him that everything would be okay, but he felt like that would be a violation of personal space. So, instead, he decided he would share his precious pie with this beautiful man. He excused himself and retrieved it from the shelf under the register, leaving his novel forgotten.

 

Dean’s eyes lit up when he saw Castiel returning with the pie in hand. “Pie? How did you know it’s what I always want?,” he said with a smile.

 

“My manager left this for me, a thank you for covering the holiday shift when no one else could.” Castiel set it down and grabbed plastic forks from the cutlery station. He handed one to Dean. “Try it,” he said, “Gabriel makes amazing pies.”

 

Dean looked aghast. “I can’t eat your pie – especially when it’s a gift.”

 

Castiel shrugged. “It’s a gift that I’m gifting to you.” He poured them each a coffee, handing one to Dean. “Cream or sugar?”

 

“Nah, I take it black.” Castiel looked up from adding cream to his own coffee to find Dean studying him. “You really want to share your pie?”

 

“Absolutely,” Cas said with a smile. He took his own fork and dug in, eating a huge bite of the pie. He couldn’t help a small moan; Gabriel really did have a gift for baking.

 

Dean made a strangled noise, and Cas looked up to see that his new friend’s face was red. “You okay?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean answered, scooping up his own fork of peachy goodness, and shoveling it into his mouth. “Oh my god,” he moaned around the food.

 

“Told you,” Castiel said with a smile before getting another forkful.

 

They ate the entire pie, punctuating their impromptu meal of Thanksgiving with exclamations of ecstasy and excessive eye-rolling. Dean refilled their coffees, pouring the exact amount of creamer that Cas used into his cup. Dean’s thoughtfulness gave Castiel a warm glow, one he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

 

Later, Castiel would estimate that they’d sat there for thirty minutes or so, and the store had remained deserted, though the automatic pumps had stayed busy. But then a van filled with several generations of a family unloaded, and the peaceful reprieve evaporated.

 

“I guess I have to let you get back to work, huh?,” Dean asked with a sad quirk to his lips.

 

Castiel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn’t want to see Dean leave, to know that he might never see him again. He quietly gathered up their trash and threw it away, and Dean followed him to the front counter. 

 

“What do I owe you for the coffee?,” Dean asked.

 

“Nothing,” Castiel said. “Consider it a Thanksgiving gift. And I hope you and your brother work things out soon.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean said. “Really.” He smiled and Castiel watched as he walked towards the door. He felt as forlorn as he’d felt by his father’s grave earlier that day.

 

A large older man suddenly stepped in front of the register, blocking Castiel’s view. “Pack of Marlboros,” he ordered.

 

“Yes, sir,” Cas answered. The steady rush of customers continued for the next several minutes, and he was completely blindsided when Dean appeared before him again, jokingly ordering a pack of menthols.

 

Castiel stared at him, confused. “Is everything okay?”

 

“It will be,” Dean said, his cheeks pink, “if you give me your number.”

 

Castiel stared again. “What?” He couldn’t have heard Dean right – could he have?

 

“I mean,” Dean stammered. “I know I don’t live around here, but you’re the nicest person I’ve met in ages. Maybe we could talk again sometime?”

 

Castiel blushed. “I’d like that,” he answered. He told Dean his number and watched, amazed, as Dean programmed it directly into his phone. He felt his own phone buzz, and Dean grinned.

 

“Now you’ve got my number, too,” he said. Dean looked directly into Castiel’s eyes and held his gaze. “I hope to talk to you soon, Cas.”

 

This time, when Dean left, he got into a beautiful black car with South Dakota plates and drove away, blowing the horn as he left the lot. Castiel still felt forlorn at Dean leaving, but he also felt the rush of hope, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

 

For the rest of his shift, Castiel felt as if he were on cloud nine. He hummed as he blocked the shelves and mopped the floor. Even cleaning the restrooms didn’t seem as horrifying as it usually did. When he locked the store up and turned everything off at midnight on the dot, he finally pulled his phone out and realized that Dean had sent him a text:

 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Cas – You’re an angel”

 

That made Castiel smile, and then he saw that there was a second text.

 

“And you have the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen”

 

Castiel blushed hard at that. It took him the entire walk back to his small apartment to decide what to text back:

 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dean. It takes an angel to know an angel”

 

Cas knew his flirting skills were rusty, but he hoped that Dean would understand the sentiment. The smiley face he received a few minutes later suggested that Dean did. 

 

+

 

Castiel had the next day off, and he trekked the half-mile from his apartment to a Christmas tree lot, choosing a small, bushy pine.

 

The guy manning the lot took one look at Castiel and his threadbare coat and eyed the tree. “That one’s got a bare spot, so it’s 50% off.”

 

Castiel knew there was no such spot, and his cheeks pinked at the obvious offer of charity, but he said thank you and paid his $20.

 

“You got a way to get that home?,” the guy asked.

 

“I planned to carry it,” Castiel answered, though now that he had the tree in hand, he wondered if that was wise. The guy seemed to be asking the same question.

 

“We can’t deliver – no trucks are here today – but I can net it up for you. That might help?”

 

“Thank you,” Castiel said. “I appreciate that greatly.”

 

It took some doing, and several stops and starts, but Castiel finally got the tree back to his apartment building, an older brick building with a courtyard in the middle. He lived on the second floor, and while he didn’t think the busy tree would fit through the narrow stairwell, he was pretty sure he could hoist it up by rope.

 

He threaded a long piece of rope down from his narrow balcony, and then returned to the courtyard, where he tied the rope securely around the tree. Back upstairs, he pulled and pulled, working the tree almost to his balcony – when the rope suddenly broke, and the tree fell, crashing through the window of the apartment below.

 

“Castiel!” Castiel winced at the loud voice of Naomi Angelo, the apartment manager. He went downstairs, and apologized for the tree that now lay half-way inside her living room.

 

Naomi shook her head as Castiel apologized. “How am I supposed to explain this to the insurance people? They’re still pissed about the time Metatron Jr. barbecued in the stairwell.”

 

“I think I missed that,” Castiel remarked.

 

“Oh yeah? It was great – perfect balance of vinegar and spice,” Naomi said. She took photos of the damage to her window and finished filing the claim on her phone.

 

“There,” she said. “They ought to process the claim fairly quickly.”

 

“I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for the window,” Castiel promised, even as he wracked his brain trying to think how he’d come up with the extra money.

 

Naomi patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a cousin in the glass business. He’ll do it for cost, and I can use what’s left of the insurance money to reseed the courtyard in the spring.”

 

Just then, Naomi’s son yelled out, “Hey ma, can I give that bottle of red wine to my probation officer for Christmas?”

 

Metatron came barreling into the room, wearing a wife-beater and jeans that were much too tight. He saw Castiel and appropriated what, Castiel assumed, passed for a swagger. “How you doing, Cassie?”

 

“It’s Castiel, and I’m fine, thanks. How are you Metatron Jr.?”

 

Metatron clicked his tongue and looked Castiel up and down. “I’m good. Better now that you’re here.” Naomi rolled her eyes at her son and pointed towards the corner cabinet.

 

Castiel chose to ignore Metatron’s awkward come-on for the sake of all involved parties. “Thank you, Mrs. Angelo. Oh, and before I forget” – he pulled a narrow, flat box from his coat pocket and handed it to her – “Merry Christmas.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that, Castiel – I haven’t even started my shopping this year.”

 

Castiel shrugged. “It’s just a small thing. And I wanted to.” He’d seen the small wooden flower press and thought she’d enjoy it; he always saw her puttering in the garden, and he knew from borrowing a few of her books that she kept flowers pressed between the pages.

 

Naomi looked at Castiel and then at her son, who was loudly rattling the bottles in the cabinet, and said, “You’re such a nice person, Castiel. Metatron’s still single, you know.”

 

Castiel looked over at the short man, who was crouched down, his pants dipping to reveal a good two inches of his butt crack. “That’s such a …" he searched for a word and settled on, "shock - I have to go, Mrs. Angelo, but really, Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Castiel.” Naomi held up a hand – “Oh, wait just a minute,” she said, stopping to dig in the hall closet. She lifted out a long, narrow chain. “This will work on your tree; it’s not so big as to break the branches but stronger than that rope you were using.”

 

“Thank you,” he said. “And about the window –”

 

“Don’t give it a second thought. Go trim your tree.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a grin.

 

\+  

 

An hour or so later, Castiel had his tree inside his apartment. He carefully hung lights before adding the ornaments he and his father had collected over the years. His cat, Mr. Whiskers, walked figure eights around Castiel’s legs as he strategically placed tinsel. Christmas music played on his aged laptop, and Castiel sang along as he finished his decorating.

 

When he was finished, Castiel stepped back and surveyed his work. The tree’s lights twinkled with red, green, and white. He turned on his bedroom lamp and the lamp he kept on the kitchenette’s counter, setting the small apartment alight with a soft, golden glow. The kettle he’d set on low began to whistle, and he made himself a fresh cup of instant cocoa. Curling up on the couch, he patted the cushion beside him, smiling as Mr. Whiskers made himself at home.

 

Castiel spent the evening watching his tree, humming to music, and watching the snow falling heavily outside his window. He’d spent a quiet day, but it had been good. When his phone rang around midnight, and a friendly voice said, “Hey, Cas,” his day got even better.

 

“Hello, Dean,” he answered, not even bothering to keep the smile from his voice.

 

They talked for an hour, Castiel telling him about the near-tree-disaster, which had Dean in stitches. Dean told him about his roadtrip that day, how he was driving up to Toronto to pick up a special shipment of stock for his dad.

 

Castiel wondered what Dean’s business was – he’d tried to ask, but Dean skirted the questions, saying it was his dad’s business, and he was just helping. They kept their conversations casual. Dean had never mentioned his brother again, and Castiel never shared about the losses he'd suffered.

 

Some nights, Castiel wanted to ask for more, to know if this was real or if he was just a friendly voice in Dean’s ear on long, lonely road trips. He never did ask, though. He was afraid of what the answer might be.

 

+ 

 

The week before Christmas, Gabriel brought Castiel a pumpkin pie and news: “I’m recommending you for employee of the month!”

 

“Really? I didn’t know we had an employee of the month.”

 

“Sure,” Gabriel said, pulling a paper from this pocket. He slipped on his glasses and began reading out loud, “Supervisor Gabriel Hornblower nominates Castiel Collins for Employee of the Month. Castiel is a hard worker; he’s never tardy and always agrees to work holidays, even when he worked the previous holiday…” Gabriel trailed off and looked at Castiel, his eyebrows raised in a clear question.

 

“No,” Castiel said firmly. “I’m not working Christmas.”

 

“Oh, come on, Cas,” Gabriel wheedled. “You’ll get a plaque with the Gas ‘N Sip logo stamped on it.”

 

“I hate the logo.”

 

“You’ll get to attend the employees yearly conference in Witchita.”

 

“I hate conferences.”

 

“Did I mention extra holiday pay? And two of my special pies?”

 

Castiel groaned. Extra money wasn’t really something he could afford to turn down. “I hate you,” he mumbled.

 

Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, Cas. I’m sorry. Inias is in New York because his grandmother has pneumonia, and Rachel can’t switch because she’s got some big family thing. Hael’s new and can’t handle running the store alone, and I promised Kali and the kids I’d be there for them this year. We'll be closed Christmas Day, but I need somebody to cover Christmas Eve.”

 

Castiel sighed. “This stinks, Gabriel.”

 

“I know it isn’t fair, and I can’t make you do it. But Cas, you’re the only one…” Gabriel trailed off.

 

“Without family,” Castiel finished for him. He felt the absence of his father like a gut punch, and his eyes burned.

 

Gabriel looked at Castiel sadly. He patted Castiel on the back. “You’ve got family, kid. I know it’s rough, and the holidays make it worse, and I’m not helping. I really am sorry.” Castiel nodded and knew that Gabriel was being sincere; after all, he’d been working for Gabriel when his father’s illness had taken its last turn, and more than once, Gabriel had covered a shift so he could be with his dad. And it had been Gabriel who’d helped him make the funeral arrangements and get through that terrible, awful day.

 

Gabriel smiled at him, “You know I think the world of you, Castiel. I really did put in for you to get a raise, whether you do Christmas Eve or not.”

 

Castiel smiled back. “Yeah? Thanks, Gabe.

 

“Wish I could do more, kid. How about _three_ pies? And you can close up at 10 pm instead of midnight?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.

 

Castiel laughed at the ridiculousness of Gabriel’s eyebrows. “Okay,” he agreed. “But only if I can put the television on whatever I want for my next month of shifts.”

 

“Done,” Gabe said, sticking his hand out. Castiel took it, they shook on the deal.

 

“Oh, and have fun in Witchita, bucko,” Gabe added with a devious grin.

 

“I am _not_ going to that meeting, Gabriel. I refuse.”

 

“Hmmm. We’ll see about that.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and went back to stocking the shelves. He still wasn’t happy about working Christmas, but at least he’d get extra money and pies…. And maybe Dean would call.

 

At the thought of his friend, Cas pulled out his phone and checked the display, but he had no messages. He sighed and slipped it back into his pocket. He’d sent Dean a text two days ago but hadn’t heard back from the man yet. Castiel’s stomach twinged with worry. What if Dean had decided he had better things to do than talk to a sales clerk stuck in Chicago?

 

Castiel put the thoughts out of his mind, knowing they were doing him no good, and focused on his tasks at hand.

 

+

 

Christmas Eve was quiet at the Gas ‘N Sip. Castiel kept the TV on the cable channel marathon of _The Christmas Story_ and recited the lines along with the characters.

 

Around eight o’clock, one of the students he knew well came into the store.

 

“Sam?,” he asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

The tall young man shrugged. “I didn’t have anywhere to go. Thought I’d get some work done? If the wifi’s up, that is.”

 

“Yeah, of course – go ahead.”

 

“Thanks, Castiel,” Sam said with a smile.

 

Castiel watched him, puzzled. He’d known that Sam had a falling out with his family, though Sam would never say why, but it seemed odd that he didn’t have anywhere to go on the holiday.

 

The way Sam’s phone kept buzzing, combined with the way Sam hung his head in his hands for several moments after he finally turned it off and stuck it in his backpack, told Castiel that there was more to the story.

 

He made a fresh pot of coffee and handed Sam a cup, which the young man accepted gratefully. “Thanks,” Sam said, taking a careful sip. He gestured at the seat across from him, and Castiel sat down. “How’d you get stuck working Christmas?,” Sam asked.

 

Castiel shrugged. “I’m the only one who could – everyone else has family and holiday stuff.”

 

Sam hesitated, and Castiel could tell he wanted to ask but wasn’t sure how. Sam knew about his dad’s illness; he’d even attended the funeral. So, Castiel volunteered the information: “It was just me and my dad, since I was a kid.” He stared off a moment, remembering how much fun his dad had always made Christmas. “It’s just me and Mr. Whiskers now.” He gave Sam a strained smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

 

“I’m okay,” Castiel answered. “I’m not complaining. I have a cat, an apartment, sole possession of the remote control – these are all very important things.” He smiled as Sam laughed. “What about you? Why are you here?”

 

Sam sobered and stared at his coffee cup. “I fucked up,” he said. “And now I don’t know how to fix things, so … I’m hiding.”

 

“Your family must miss you,” Castiel said.

 

“I know,” Sam said. “My brother, especially, is upset with me, but I just don’t know what to say.”

 

“Whatever happened, the longer you run from it, the worse it’s going to be.”

 

Sam nodded sadly. “I think you’re right. I just can’t figure out how to stop running.”

The door chimed, letting Castiel know that a customer had entered the store. He stood and patted Sam on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Sam. I know you will.”

 

“Thanks, Castiel.”

 

A flurry of activity had Castiel ringing up orders and making nachos and hot dogs for a carload of late-night travelers. Sam tapped on the counter mid-nacho-making and waved goodbye. “Merry Christmas,” he called out.

 

Castiel waved back. “Merry Christmas!”

 

He handed off the food and wished his customers well. One good thing about working Christmas, he thought, is that most people are in happy moods. At that thought, he looked out the door, hoping – foolishly, he imagined – to see a shiny black Impala pull into the lot.

 

Instead, he saw Sam in an intense conversation with a woman with long dark hair and a tall, blonde man. The woman started yelling at Sam, pointing emphatically between him and the blonde man. She reached into her jacket, and Castiel saw her pull out a knife. Castiel ran out of the store, towards the fracas. He reached them just as Sam wrested the knife from her hands.

 

“Get lost, Ruby,” Sam shouted.

 

Castiel took in Ruby’s wild eyes and pulled out his phone. “You need to leave the premises,” he told her. “I’m calling the police.”

“You do that,” she scoffed. “I’ve done what I needed to.”

 

At that exact moment, the blonde man came up behind Sam and stabbed him in the lower back. Sam cried out, and the man swung at Castiel next. He clearly didn’t expect the roundhouse kick that Cas delivered to his stomach and left him bent double.  Ruby picked up the knife her partner had dropped and swiped at Castiel, cutting his upper arm. It was enough of a distraction that she was able to grab Sam’s backpack. She and her partner ran towards the abandoned warehouse down the block. 

 

Sam sank to his knees. He tried to speak but sagged, and Castiel dropped the phone to grab Sam before he hit the pavement. Cas’s arm and hand were slick with his own blood, but he managed to grab his phone, shouting, “Are you still there?”

 

“Yes, this is 911. What’s your emergency?”

 

Castiel told the operator, and he could hear nearby sirens blaring almost immediately. He held his friend, horrified by the pool of blood gathering under Sam. “Hold on,” he murmured. “You just have to hold on.”

 

+

 

The paramedics arrived in three minutes and quickly triaged Sam. They were loading Sam when Castiel swayed on his feet, drawing their attention.

 

“Oh, shit, he’s cut, too,” the shorter paramedic said. She grabbed Castiel and pushed him into the ambulance.

 

“I can’t leave – have to call my boss.”

 

“You can and you will,” ordered the woman. “Hey, Josie,” she yelled, getting the attention of the policewoman surveying the scene. “Lock it down. The clerk’s hurt too, and we gotta book.”

 

Josie waved in acknowledgement.

 

“I’m Meg, and you’re bleeding,” she said, cutting away Castiel’s sleeve. “It’s deep, but you’ll be okay.” She swiftly tied a bandage around the wound and ordered Castiel to be still. “I need to work on your friend, okay?”

 

He nodded, watching as she kept pressure on Sam’s wound and adjusted his IV.

 

Castiel’s phone range, and he fumbled to answer it. He stared in disbelief at the screen; it was Dean. For the first time in a week, Dean was calling him, but Castiel had to hit “ignore” so that he could call Gabriel.

 

“What’s up sweetcheeks?,” Gabriel asked when he answered the phone.

 

“I- um. There’s been an accident. Sam Singer was stabbed in the parking lot.”

 

Meg leaned towards Castiel and yelled into the phone, “Your clerk was stabbed, too.”

 

“What?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

 

Castiel shot Meg a perturbed look, but she was already working on Sam again and paying him no mind. “I will be,” he said, and then he gave Gabe the quick rundown. He could hear Gabriel cranking his car and shifting gear recklessly.

 

“Okay, Cassie, I’m here. Tell me the security cameras have been operational?”

 

“I think so,” Castiel answered. He heard Gabriel relay what he’d said to the officers.

 

“Take care of yourself, kid. I’ll be in touch.” More voices off the phone. “And Officer Sands says you’ll need to make a statement. They’ll come find you. Just be on the lookout.”

 

The ambulance had pulled into the emergency bay, and attendants were taking Sam, who was entirely unconscious now, out of the truck.

 

“Cassie?,” Gabe asked. “What’s going on?”

 

“They’re taking Sam,” he replied, climbing down out of the truck. He stumbled when his feet touched the pavement.

 

“And that’s enough of that,” Meg said, snatching the phone from his hand. “Boy wonder here’s got to go,” she said into the phone before ending the call abruptly.

 

“Hey,” Castiel protested.

 

“Hay’s for horses and unicorns, dear,” Meg quipped. She motioned at an orderly who was bringing over a wheelchair. “This is for you. Take a seat. We’ll get you reunited with your prince soon.”

 

Cas opened his mouth to correct her when the wave of nausea he’d been fighting engulfed him. The swirling lights and sounds and the smell of blood was too much. He felt Meg and the orderly ease him into the chair; he fainted before they got him inside the doors.

 

\+ + +

 

In the wee hours of Christmas Day, Meg finally had a chance to check on her patients from earlier in the evening. She slapped her palm on the counter at the nurse’s station to get her friend's attention. Lily raised an unamused eyebrow at her, and Meg just grinned, asking, “How’s the stabbing victim? The one from the Gas 'N Sip?”

 

“Sam Singer? He’s in surgery – kid’s in bad shape.”

 

“He gonna make it?”

 

Lily shrugged. “We don’t know yet. Trying to track down his next of kin.”

 

“What about his boyfriend?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The dude who defended his honor? Oh, come on. Tell me you’ve seen the tape. It’s already gone viral.”

 

Lily stared blankly at Meg, who rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Lily. You’ve got to start paying attention to life outside Hale Memorial.” She pulled out her phone and booted up the video. “Look,” she said, holding it out so her friend could see.

 

Together, they watched the girl shouting at Sam; Castiel come running from the store; Brady attacking Sam; Castiel fighting back; the girl stabbing at Castiel; and then an injured and bleeding Castiel managing to catch Sam before he hit the ground.

 

“It’s like something from a movie,” Lily breathed, her hand to her throat.

 

“Right?,” Meg said. “Kid's got moves. How is Clarence, anyway?”

 

“You mean Castiel? He’s okay, a little out of it from the pain medication and blood loss. Dr. Nick has him in a room; they need to run some tests, check for nerve damage - that sort of thing.”

 

Meg tsked. “Hope the kid’s okay.” Her phone began buzzing in her hand, and Meg checked the display. “Shit. Gotta run. Another accident at the northbound bridge. See you, Lily – Merry Christmas!” And Meg was gone.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Lily called out. She kept replaying the video she’d seen through her mind – she wouldn’t have thought the lean, dark-haired young man could’ve pulled off moves like that. And the way he’d caught the taller one as he fell? It made Lily’s heart swoon.

 

Suddenly, she had an idea for pulling off one small Christmas miracle. Pulling up Sam’s record, she listed Castiel as his next of kin. In the space for “relationship,” she typed in “fiancé” instead of “boyfriend” and made a notation for them to be put in the same room once Sam came out of recovery.

 

“That’ll do it,” she said with a smile. She saved the updated record and logged off. She grabbed her bag and coat and called out, "I'm out of here, Pam," to the harried-looking woman working two cubicles down. 

 

Pam held her hand over the receiver of her phone. "Have fun," she called back. "And Merry Christmas!"

 

Lily smiled and waved. She couldn't wait - In six hours, she and her husband would be on a plane, heading towards Cancun and far away from the snowstorm Chicago news stations were predicting for the next day.

 

Merry Christmas, indeed, she thought.

\+ + + +


	2. Chapter 2

\+ + + +

Castiel regained consciousness gradually, slowly becoming aware of beeping noises and footsteps in the hallway. He struggled to open his eyes, groaning at the effort.  

 

“Careful there,” said a soft female voice. “You had a bad reaction to the pain medication.”

 

He had to blink a few times before he could see her, a young woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes much like his own. “I’m Hannah,” she said. Looking at his chart, she continued, “And you’re Castiel. Can you move your arm?”

 

Castiel stared at her a moment, uncomprehending. She seemed to sense his uncertainty. “Do you remember where you are, Castiel? What happened to you?”

 

“No… what,” Castiel said, stopping his denial as flashes came back to him. “Wait, where’s Sam?” Castiel bolted upright, fighting the nausea. “Is he okay?”

 

Hannah placed her hand on his shoulder and firmly navigated him to a reclining position. “Sam’s in recovery; he had a bad time of it and –” She pursed her mouth and stopped whatever she’d been about to say. “And I’m sure the doctor will go over all of that with you later.”

 

“With me?,” Castiel asked. “What about the family-only law?”

 

“According to Hale Memorial policies, you _are_ family,” Hannah said in a reassuring tone. “We recognize all unions here.” 

 

Castiel’s brow furrowed. “I don’t –“

 

An alarm sounded, cutting off Castiel’s half-formulated question. “That’s a code blue,” Hannah said. “I have to go, but stay here. Dr. Nick will want to check your wound when he does rounds.”

 

She was out the door, and Castiel was left alone – and completely confused.

 

\+ + + +

 

“Please?,” Charlie wheedled. She’d been without her laptop since Ash had told her adopted parents that she was hacking a fanatically conservative political action committee and transferring its money to a marriage equality campaign.

 

(When she’d confronted Ash for his snitchery, he’d simply waggled his eyebrows and told her, “Next time, mi amiga, be good enough that I can’t catch you.”)

 

“I’m having withdrawal, Ma. Look.” She held her hands out, letting Mary see the (okay, maybe _slightly_ exaggerated) tremors.

 

Mary cocked an eyebrow that wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “Please?,” Charlie tried again, turning her famous puppy dog eyes on her mother. “I promise not to hack NORAD.”

 

Mary rolled her eyes but caved, as Charlie had known she would. “Fine,” Mary said, waving towards the cupboard over the stove. “But if I find out that you’ve been –”

 

Charlie excitedly cut her off: “I know, I know. I’ll get locked down faster than I can say Snowden.” She retrieved her laptop and reverently set it on the table, running her fingers lovingly over the keys and screen while it booted up.

 

“Need a moment with your precious?,” Aunt Ellen asked, smiling and tousling Charlie’s hair.

 

“Yes,” Charlie said emphatically, wrapping her arms around the screen. “We can never be separated again.”

 

Ellen laughed before grabbing the eggs from the refrigerator. “What do you want me to make, Mary? Scrambled eggs? Omelets?”

 

Mary paused in stirring the pancake batter. “Scrambled, I think? With the pancakes and fruit and sausages – that should be plenty, surely?”

 

“I’d hope so,” Ellen said, setting the eggs on the island and retrieving a big bowl from the cabinet, too. “What time will John be—?”

 

Charlie tuned out their chatter about the regularly-scheduled-Christmas-breakfast-followed-by-present-extravaganza that wasn’t so regular this year: Sam wasn’t speaking to anyone (except her, but no one knew that), and Dean had purposefully taken on a case that had him on the road.

 

She logged on to her Twitter and started scrolling through her timeline. Many of her friends had RT-ed a video captioned “Saved by His Prince.” “Huh,” Charlie said, clicking on the link. She watched the grainy cell-phone video, and when she saw the face of the tall man, her jaw dropped.

 

She quickly downloaded the video and started working her magic to improve its resolution. She captured the image and zoomed in and let out a shriek.

 

“Charlie? What’s wrong?,” Mary asked. She and Ellen were staring at Charlie, concern etched on their faces.

 

It took Charlie a second to speak, and her voice sounded small to her own ears. “Something’s happened to Sam.”

 

+

 

Ellen and Mary watched the video skeptically, not wanting to believe that the victim was Sam, but Charlie’s re-mastered footage made it hard to deny.

 

Mary sank into the chair beside Charlie, a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God,” she said. “Why hasn’t anyone called us? Does that mean --?” Her face paled even as she thought the words she couldn’t say. Charlie felt sick, too, and immediately began scouring the net for updates on the story, but all she could find was a report saying the two victims had been taken to the hospital, and the police were in pursuit of the assailants.

 

“Don’t go there, Mary,” Ellen admonished, “Not until we know more.” She pulled out her phone. “Charlie, what’s the hospital’s number?”

 

Charlie found the listing for Hale Memorial, and Ellen entered the numbers, directing Charlie to get John and Bobby while she called.

 

“Hello? Yes, this is Ellen Singer, and I’m calling about my nephew, Sam Winchester? He was admitted to your hospital last night.” Ellen kept a firm grasp on one of Mary’s hands while she talked. “Uh-huh.” Ellen’s voice sharpened. “Listen, I’m looking at the viral footage now, and that’s my nephew, and I want to know how he is right --.” She stopped talking and listened for a few moments. “Okay, thank you, we’re coming from Sioux Falls, but we’ll be there asap.”

 

“How is he?” Mary asked, just as John and Bobby burst into the room with Charlie and Jo in tow.

 

Ellen’s brow furrowed. “He’s in the ICU. They wouldn’t give me specifics because they don’t have a Sam Winchester listed.”

 

“What?,” Mary asked, puzzled.

 

“They have a Sam Singer,” Ellen explained carefully, avoiding John and Mary’s stricken gaze.

 

Bobby gave it three seconds before breaking the silence. “Well, we gonna stand here lollygagging or get to our boy?” He looked at Ellen, “Plane or car?”

 

She looked at the clock. “With all the airport security hoops, I think a car might get us there faster.”

 

“Car it is, then. I got a church van at the yard. It’ll hold us all.”

 

John just nodded along, numbly. Bobby clasped him on the shoulder. “Get your things, John. Pack for a few days,” he told his friend. “Ellen, will you help him and Mary get ready? Jo and I will pack your things.”

 

“Sure, sugar,” Ellen said, kissing Bobby on the cheek. “Josephine, don’t get cute with my wardrobe, you hear? Pack normal outfits.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Jo answered, following Bobby out the door.

 

“Charlie, you get your things.”

 

Charlie nodded but lingered at the door. “Well?,” Ellen asked. “We got 15 minutes, maybe, before Bobby’s blaring the horn.”

 

“Who’s going to call Dean?,” Charlie asked.

 

Ellen, Mary, and John shared a long look. John walked over and wrapped his adopted daughter in a hug. “We’ll call him when we’re on the way, kiddo.” He kissed her on top of the head. “Go get your things. We don’t have much time.”

 

“Come on, you two,” Ellen said, looking at her watch. “Thirteen minutes and counting.”

 

She got John and Mary started, and then returned to the kitchen, putting away the unused eggs and leaving everything else to deal with later. She adjusted the thermostat and made sure the doors were locked.

 

The loud blaring in the driveway told her it was time. “Everybody ready?,” she called out. Charlie came running through, grabbing her laptop and slipping it into her messenger bag. “You got everything, kid?” Charlie saluted instead of speaking and slipped out the door.

 

John and Mary were arguing in the bathroom. Ellen could hear their voices rising in intensity, and she gave them thirty seconds – her patience wearing out just when Bobby’s did. Her muttered “Shit” was punctuated by Bobby blasting the horn - _again_.

 

She stalked into the room. “Look,” she said, her hands on her hips. “You two can fight about could’a, would’a, should’a later, but right now, your son is in the ICU and the two of you need to stow your crap. Got it?”

 

John glared at Ellen but nodded reluctantly, grabbing his razor and shaving cream from the counter before stomping past and throwing them into his duffel. “Let’s go, then,” he said, flinging it over his shoulder.

 

“Get your ID,” Ellen called after him. To Mary, she said more kindly, “C’mon. We’ve gotta go.”

 

Mary wiped her eyes and nodded. Ellen helped her pack her cosmetics and pajamas, pausing when Mary pulled a file folder from the bookcase and started flipping through its contents.

 

“Mary,” Ellen said gently. “We don’t have time –”

 

Mary pulled out the form and waved it. “It’s his birth certificate.” She grabbed a family photograph from the wall, too. “Just in case we need proof,” she added sadly.

 

Ellen nodded and said nothing else, following her friend out of the house.

 

+

 

Bobby drove like a bat out of hell. They finally got ahold of Dean three hours after they’d started. He called from a rest stop, and at first, Ellen tried to avoid telling him anything was wrong, but Dean was too quick for that.

 

“Something’s happened. What?,” he asked bluntly.

 

“It’s Sam,” Ellen said.

 

She heard Dean’s sharp intake of breath. “He alive?”

 

“Yes,” she answered, making sure her voice didn’t waver.

 

“Where?”

 

“Chicago. Hale Memorial Hospital.”

 

“I’m on my way. I’m coming from Billings.” He hesitated. “Do I need to fly?”

 

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Ellen said. “Are you okay to drive?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. And Ellen believed him – driving usually settled Dean, like it did Bobby. No way she’d be driving as upset as she was right now, but those two, they were peas in a pod.

 

“Why don’t you start, then, hon, and I’ll update you as soon as I know something. Okay?”

 

“Okay. Thanks, Aunt Ellen. Is everybody okay?”

 

Ellen looked behind her at the van’s occupants – Bobby driving tensely; Charlie setting morosely between them. John had sprawled across the back bench and was staring blankly, not speaking to anyone, while Mary and Jo were curled up together, dozing. “Not really, but they’re hanging in there.”

 

“Take care of them for me?”

“Of course, and you take care of you, kid. Love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Dean said before abruptly ending the call.

 

“He okay?,” Charlie asked.

 

“Not really, but he took it surprisingly well,” Ellen said. She wrapped an arm around her niece, and Charlie laid her head against Ellen’s shoulder. “Get some sleep sweetie,” she said, kissing the top of her niece’s head.

 

Bobby looked over the bench, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Don’t worry about me, old man,” she said primly. “I’m good.”

 

“Just checkin’,” Bobby said gruffly, casting a soft smile in her direction.

 

Ellen smiled back, and let herself relax for a moment. They’d done all they could for now, and they’d be at Hale Memorial in the early afternoon with the way Bobby was driving.

 

Of course, then she’d have to confess that she hadn’t shared everything she’d learned: Sam wasn’t the only one injured and in the hospital...so was his fiancé.

 

\+ + + +

 


	3. Chapter 3

\+ + + +

Castiel was having a very bad day.

 

After the odd conversation with Nurse Hannah, Officer Sands had arrived, her recorder and notebook in hand.

 

“This will only take a moment, Mr. Collins,” she’d said, pulling a chair near the bed.

 

She’d lied. On one hand, Castiel knew he should be grateful that she was so painstakingly thorough with her investigation, but on the other, he was in pain and just wanted to go home.

 

Luckily, Gabriel had arrived an hour and a half into the inquisition, flashing a bouquet of garish flowers and a wide smile. He’d winked at Officer Sands, to her clear un-amusement, and reached over to ruffle Castiel’s hair.

 

“You’re a hero, Cassie!,” Gabriel had exclaimed. “That video’s all over the internet.”

 

“And how did that happen, Mr. Hornblower?,” Sands had snapped.

 

Gabriel had shrugged. “Don’t look at me. You’ve got the store’s footage. Talk to those kids who filmed it with their cell phones but didn’t bother helping.”

 

Officer Sands had pursed her lips in disapproval. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll definitely be talking to them.”

 

Gabriel had edged towards the door, and Castiel had given him a desperate look that went unnoticed by the intense police officer. His friend had taken the hint, though, and quickly claimed the chair to Castiel’s left.

 

“Now, where were we?,” she’d asked. Castiel had sighed as Officer Sands dove back into her questions. Luckily, Gabriel’s presence had seemed to reign in her investigative energy, and after Castiel had fully detailed (again) his role, corroborating what the security footage had shown and answering all of her follow-up and clarification questions, Officer Sands had finally left.

 

Gabriel had let out a whistle after the door closed behind her. “Whew, she’s a serious one. I’d hate to see Kali and her in a fight.” He’d paused a moment and stared off into space before turning to Castiel with wide eyes. “Or would I?,” he’d asked, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Castiel had smiled wryly at the mention of Kali. “Sorry I ruined your Christmas.”

 

Gabriel had waved away the apology. “You didn’t ruin it. Those two assholes who attacked you and Sam are what caused all this.”

 

“Have they been caught yet?”

 

“Not yet, but they’re tracking them. With Sands on the case? I give ‘em another day, tops.” Gabriel leaned forward suddenly. “What can I do to help, Cassie? Get you clothes, food, feed your cat?”

 

Castiel had smiled at his friend. “If you’d feed Mr. Whiskers, I’d appreciate it. His food’s in the cabinet above the microwave.”

 

“Done,” Gabriel had pronounced, jumping up to dig through the pile of Castiel’s belongings. Gabriel had triumphantly rattled his find – Castiel’s keys – and then paused before asking, “Have you heard how Sam is?”

 

Castiel was shaking his head when the doctor came in. “I’m Dr. Nick,” he’d said with a warm smile. “And I’ll happily fill you in on Mr. Singer’s condition shortly, after I get a good look at that arm,” he’d said with a pointed look towards Castiel’s bandaged arm.

 

Gabriel had taken the doctor’s entrance as his cue to leave. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Cassie,” he’d said with a wave. “Get some rest.”

 

“That’s an excellent idea,” Dr. Nick had said. “But first, we need you to undergo a few tests.”

 

That was two hours ago, and those few tests had left Castiel’s arm throbbing in pain, though the prognosis was good: No likely nerve damage, though he’d need a round of physical therapy to make sure the muscles mended correctly.

 

The promise of therapy worried Castiel. _How am I supposed to pay for that?_ , he wondered, as he tried to get dress. He had insurance, of course, but the deductible was high. The dream of going back to school seemed so far away, and his stomach twisted in fear that he’d never graduate, never travel, never see the world.

 

He thought about how his dad had often surprised him with mini-adventures – though, in hindsight, it’s amazing how exotic Wisconsin _isn’t_. Yet his dad had been able to make the most mundane locales, from a cheese factory tour to a canoe ride down a muddy river, seem exciting. Castiel missed that feeling, that _spark_. The closest he’d come to experiencing it since his dad had died was when he’d met Dean and –

 

 _Dean_.

 

 _Oh, no,_ Castiel thought. He’d ignored Dean’s call and hadn’t even checked his messages since. He zipped and buttoned his pants with his good hand and then rummaged through his stuff until he found his phone. It was completely dead.

 

“Dammit,” he muttered, shoving it down into his pants’ front pocket and blinking rapidly to clear his suddenly-burning eyes.

 

Hannah came into the room just then. “Dr. Nick said that you can see Sam now.” She came over and tightly tied the patient’s robe he’d been given. “There,” she said, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders and smiling brightly. “Ready?”

 

The mention of Sam jolted Castiel out of his pity party, and he gave a small nod. After all, while Castiel might be having a very bad day, Sam was lucky to be having a day at all.

 

Hannah retrieved the wheelchair he’d been required to use all day and motioned for him to have a seat. With a sigh, Castiel settled in, cradling his injured arm carefully against his chest.

 

“Here you go,” Hannah said, handing him a plastic bag filled with his bloodied clothes.

 

“Thank you,” he said, taking it with his good hand.

“You’re very welcome,” Hannah replied. As she steered his chair along the path that would take him to Sam, the friendly nurse updated him on Sam’s status.

 

Castiel already knew from Dr. Nick that the knife had barely missed Sam’s kidney and that there had been other damage too – Castiel hadn’t understood all of the medical terms, only that Sam had nearly died. According to Hannah, Sam was now classified as in stable but serious condition. “He’s responding well, though,” she assured Castiel. “I expect he’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

 

They arrived at Sam’s cubicle before Castiel could fully work out the rightness of rain. Hannah reached for the curtains that cloaked Sam’s corner of the room and hesitated. She looked at Castiel with concern. “Now, don’t be alarmed by his appearance. He’s had a rough go of it.”

 

Despite the warning, when Hannah pulled the curtains back quietly, Castiel gasped. Sam looked small in the bed, hooked up to loud monitors and hissing machines. He was so pale and bruised and still that Castiel might have thought him dead if not for the steady but slow beeping of the heart monitor.

 

Hannah steered Castiel right beside the bed and lowered its rail on that side. “You should talk to him and touch his hand,” she suggested. “I’ve heard too many stories of coma patients hearing their loved ones to believe otherwise.”

 

“He’s in a coma?”

 

“A medically induced one,” Hannah explained. “The doctors will re-evaluate him tonight to determine when to bring him out of it.”

 

Castiel nodded, transfixed by Sam’s slow, shallow breathing. This was all too similar to those last days at his father’s side, before Death took him.

 

Hannah’s warm hand gripped his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Castiel,” she promised. “You should be fine to sit here for a while. If anyone asks, I’m getting your discharge papers – though I can promise you I’ll take my time,” she added with a wink.

 

Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Hannah.”

 

She nodded and left Castiel by his friend’s bedside. Part of Castiel wanted to run far and fast from this place – its smells, its sounds… it was all a bit much. But another part knew he needed to be here for Sam, who had seemed so alone lately.

 

Castiel knew that he wore his own loneliness on his sleeve – it was hard not to. Since his mother’s death, his father had been everything to him, and he’d kept his mom’s memory alive too. Castiel had always wanted a love like that. He remembered asking his dad how he’d known that he truly loved his mom. His dad had smiled and said, “Cas, your mother gave me a special gift. She gave me the world.” He’d pointed at the bedside table, where Castiel had carefully set up the globe lamp and chuckled – a once-lighthearted sound that now devolved into a choking cough.

 

Now, Castiel thought of that globe, which he kept on top of a bookcase in the corner of his bedroom, and smiled. For the romantic that his dad was, that globe might as well have been the world.

 

The thought of Dean’s wide smile and bright eyes flashed through Castiel’s mind, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to race home, plug in his phone, and call Dean back immediately.

 

But as he watched the slow but steady movement of Sam’s chest, the whirring of the machines monitoring his friend, Castiel knew that he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t.

 

Castiel tentatively rested his hand on Sam’s much larger one. “I’m here, Sam. It’s going to be okay.”

 

+

 

Through the observation window, a young nurse named Becky watched Castiel take Sam’s hand. She held her hand to her heart and sighed deeply.

 

“Is that the guy who saved his life?”

 

Becky looked at the stranger who’d spoken. He was tall and thin – downright gangly, actually.

 

“Who’s asking?”

 

“Oh, I’m Garth,” he said with a warm smile, holding out a hand. Becky hesitated before taking it, but as soon as she did, she found her hand being shaken quite enthusiastically.  He tipped his head towards the window. “I heard some of the nurses talking – sounds like quite a story.”

 

“It is,” she confirmed.

 

“We don’t get many stories of true, everyday heroism,” Garth added.

 

Becky nodded in agreement. “It gets even better than that,” she added.

 

“Oh yeah? How?”

 

“He’s his fiancé,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

 

Garth’s eyes widened. “Really? That _is_ a story. Can you –”

 

Becky looked over Garth’s shoulder and saw the shift supervisor making the rounds. “Excuse me,” she said. “Duty calls.”

 

Garth nodded, but several minutes after Becky had left, he still stood, watching as the unconscious man’s visitor bowed his head in what appeared to be prayer.

 

“Duty definitely is calling,” he said quietly. He pulled his phone from his pocket and headed for the exit as he dialed a familiar number.

 

“Hey, Victor? I got a lead on something – just wait till you hear…” The exit door slid shut, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

 

\+ + + +

 

“Which exit do I take?,” Bobby asked Ellen.

 

She looked up from her phone. “The next,” she answered. She tossed a glance back at the other occupants, all in varying states of shock and sleepiness. “We’re making a pit stop first,” she murmured.

 

Bobby arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

 

“Well, we already know –” she trailed off and met her husband’s eyes meaningfully. Her last call to the hospital an hour or so ago had yielded the information that Sam was in a medically induced coma. No one had taken that well. She still hadn’t shared the news about his fiancé either. Bobby nodded in understanding.

 

“I found a fully outfitted weekly rental about a mile from the hospital,” she murmured. “I’ve been texting with the realtor, and we just need to go by so I can sign the papers. Then, I think everyone should eat and get cleaned up before we see him.”

 

Bobby reached a hand out and squeezed Ellen’s knee gently. “You’re one smart woman, Ellen Harvelle.”

 

“And don’t you forget it old man,” she said, laying her hand over his and lacing their fingers together.

 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel was still sitting by Sam’s bedside when Hannah returned. “I thought you’d still be here,” she said with a gentle smile. She presented him with clipboard of papers and a pen. “I have your discharge papers, and if you’re ready to go, I can wheel you downstairs.”

 

Cas frowned. “I can walk. I feel much better now.”

 

“They’re pretty strict about patients being escorted out,” she said. “But if you’re not ready to leave, that’s fine. I’m on for a few hours yet.”

 

“Thanks. I’d like to stay, if that’s okay. I don’t want Sam to be here alone.”

 

Hannah nodded and stepped closer, reviewing the machines that were keeping tabs on Sam. “He’s showing improvement,” she noted. “Has he reacted to your being here?”

 

“No, he’s been out this entire time.”

 

“Well, don’t take it personally. Like I said, I believe coma patients can sense their loved ones.”

 

There it was again, the reference to a deeper relationship between him and Sam than he’d said. Before he could formulate his realization into a question, Hannah’s pager went off.

 

“911,” she read aloud and headed for the door, looking back to order, “Sign those papers, Castiel. I’ll check on you later.”

 

Castiel sighed and flipped through the sheaf of documentation. Rather than read, he simply signed his name wherever Hannah had left a sticky note and set the clipboard on the table beside the ice chips that an attendant had brought by earlier.

 

He noticed that Sam’s lips looked cracked and dry, so he used a large chip to wet them. “There, that’s better,” he remarked. A vivid memory of doing the same for his father sent a shudder of grief through his heart. Castiel grimaced and settled back into his chair, resuming his vigil.

 

Maybe he couldn’t be there for his father anymore, but he could be here for Sam.

 

+ 

 

Castiel woke to a gentle touch on his shoulder and an insistent voice in his ear.

 

“Hey kid, wake up.”

 

Castiel jerked backwards, looking up at the woman speaking with alarm. He heard voices – loud and not entirely pleasant – echoing through the ward.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Her mouth twisted. “So much,” she said. “Listen, I haven’t told his dad about – you know – yet, and you might want to make yourself scarce until we get things figured out.

 

“You know?,” Castiel asked, completely confused.

 

“Yes, I know,” she said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “And I’m happy for you – for both of you. But his dad is a piece of work, and…”

 

Just then, a tall man with deep circles appeared in the doorway. “They’re trying to throw me out, _me_.”

 

A security officer loomed behind the man. “Sir, I need you to step away from that room and come with me.”

 

The man squared his shoulders and turned to glare at the officer. Castiel had a very bad feeling about this, and he eased his way from the wheelchair where he’d fallen asleep and edged along the wall.

 

The woman gave him an approving nod, patted Sam’s still hand, and then stalked back to the door, both hands on her hips, launching into a tongue-lashing that – despite her whispered tone – had the large man looking cowed and the security officer looking vindicated.

 

“Now, go,” she said, pushing at the large man’s shoulder. “Cool off while I get things sorted. I’ll text you when you can come back.”

 

The large man nodded, though his expression was sulky. “He okay?”

 

“He’s asleep. Now go.”

 

The officer spoke up, “I need to go with you, sir.”

 

The large man drew up, and the woman slapped him on the arm. “Let him,” she ordered. “He’s doing his job.” She squinted at the officer’s nametag. “Thank you, Ezekiel. He’s going to be fine now – aren’t you?,” she asked, directing her last comment to the annoyed looking man.

 

He grunted in answer and left. The officer followed a few paces behind.

 

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief when the angry man left. The building tension had left his stomach in knots.

 

“You okay, kid?,” the woman asked him.

 

Castiel nodded but said nothing. She eyed him shrewdly, and Castiel pressed himself further against the wall.

 

“He’s more bark than bite,” she offered. “Stay here. Sam’s going to be moved to private room” – she glanced at a piece of paper in her hand– “332 so that we don’t take over the recovery ward. If you hang around, you can meet the rest of the family.” She gave a dry laugh, “Might be safer to break the news when medical personnel are nearby.”

 

Castiel frowned. “No offense, kid,” she added quickly. “They’re just going to be surprised is all. Why don’t you go on down to the room? We’ll meet you there, get the introductions over with?”

 

Castiel nodded and even mustered a smile as the woman patted his uninjured shoulder reassuringly. “Glad you’re okay, too, kid.”

 

They parted ways at the door, Castiel taking the stairs – a different set than he’d seen the large, angry man take – and her heading for the nurses’ station at the end of the hall.

 

As soon as the exit door slid closed behind him, Castiel held tightly to the banister with his good arm and descended the stairs, breathing deep and fighting his rising anxiety. He quaked at the thought of meeting any more of Sam’s relatives.

 

He reached the third floor, but he couldn’t make himself open the door. “I'm sorry, Sam,” he murmured aloud, before continuing his descent.

 

He slipped through the first floor hallway, heading for the main doors. When he finally got outside, the bracing December air hurt his lungs, but Castiel breathed deeply. Eyes shut, he tilted his face to the sky and basked in the bright rays of the late afternoon sun. He stood that way for several moments, until the ache in his arm reminded him that it was in his best interests to get home quickly. 

 

The friendly bus driver took one look at Castiel's wan face, bandaged arm, and improvised hospital top, and suggested he take the seat directly behind him to avoid being jostled in the crowd. 

 

When the driver went three blocks off-route to deposit Castiel directly outside his apartment building, he was so touched that he nearly cried.

 

"Take care of yourself," the driver called with a cheery wave.

 

Castiel waved back with his good hand and slowly made his way up the long walk. The bus stayed at the curb until Castiel reached the main door. The driver blew the horn and finally pulled away from the curb. 

 

With a smile on his face, despite the horror of the past day - the fear, pain, tension, and uncertainty - Castiel murmured a prayer of thanks for the good in the world.

 

\+ + + +


	4. Chapter 4

\+ + + +

 

“Ellen, I don’t understand,” Mary said, her blue eyes wide with confusion. “Who is it you’re wanting us to meet?”

 

“Sam’s – uh. One of Sam’s friends,” Ellen answered, frowning as she looked up and down the hall again, even though the attendant had already said that she hadn’t seen a dark-haired, injured young man. “I’ll look for him later.”

 

“I don’t want to meet any of Sam’s druggy friends,” John snapped.

 

Ellen rolled her eyes. “Can it, John,” she ordered, glancing towards the exit where Ezekiel stood in silent vigil, his eyes carefully trained on John at all times. Ellen figured one more outburst would land John a ban from the hospital and its grounds. “What _you_ want isn’t exactly priority right now, capiche?”

 

He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Ellen sighed at his defiant stance and said a silent prayer for Bobby to get back here with the girls pronto. Her husband always seemed able to talk John down when no one else could.

 

The three friends stood in the hallway, giving the nurses a wide berth as they walking in and out of Sam’s room, preparing it for his arrival. The large elevator nearby dinged its arrival, and its doors slid open.

 

Mary gasped and clutched John’s arm as Sam’s bed was wheeled past them. John watched stoically, though Ellen noted the gentleness with which he covered Mary’s hand with his own. Seeing Sam’s condition bothered her, too, but Ellen steeled her jaw and blinked rapidly to clear her teary eyes.

 

A doctor had accompanied Sam’s transport, and he stopped to introduce himself. “I’m Dr. Nick,” he said warmly, shaking each of their hands, “And I understand that you’re Sam’s family. You probably already know the details from Castiel –”

 

“Who?,” John asked, his brow furrowed.

 

Dr. Nick looked confused. “Sam’s fiancé? Castiel Collins? He was also injured by the assailants, and—”

 

“His _what_?,” John roared. Ezekiel appeared by Ellen’s side so suddenly she wondered if the officer had teleported.

 

Dr. Nick stared John down until the other man dropped his eyes in what Ellen hoped was shame. “His fiancé,” Dr. Nick repeated firmly. He stepped to the door of Sam’s new room. “Hannah?,” he called.

 

A young nurse with dark curls and bright blue eyes came into the hallway. “Yes?,” she asked.

 

“Has Mr. Collins been discharged?”

 

“Not officially,” she answered. “I found the papers he signed, but he left them and the bag of his bloodied clothes.”

 

“Why were his clothes bloodied?,” Mary asked.

 

“He was wounded when he came to Sam’s rescue,” Hannah explained.

 

“He’s the other man in the video?,” Mary asked disbelievingly.

 

Hannah nodded, and Dr. Nick chuckled. “Yes, the romantic rescue has been the talk of hospital,” he said.

 

“Is he a drug addict too?,” John snapped.

 

Dr. Nick raised an eyebrow and his mouth thinned with clear displeasure. “I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr. Collins’s medical condition with you.”

 

Ellen stepped forward just enough so she could look John in the face. “Can we not?,” she asked. “You’ll meet Castiel soon enough, I imagine. Shut up and let’s listen to what the good doctor has to say about Sam.”

 

Dr. Nick nodded approvingly at Ellen before launching into an explanation of the injuries Sam had suffered, his surgery, and the possible complications.

 

When he was finished, and the family was left to their own devices, John was white with worry and sitting at his son’s side, Mary on his knee. Ellen stayed near the door and pulled out her phone, firing off a one-word text to Bobby: “Hurry.”

 

\+ + + +

 

Hannah accompanied Dr. Nick as he finished his rounds. She observed him closely, noting that the tension he’d acquired while dealing with John Winchester stayed with him until long after his final patient was seen.

 

As he submitted his records for the night, and Hannah filed her own reports, she finally asked, “Isn’t Sam Singer’s prognosis a good one?”

 

“Oh, it’s excellent,” Dr. Nick replied. “But his father needed a reminder of the bigger picture, and I was happy to give it.” He grinned devilishly.

 

Hannah shook her head at his conniving.

 

“Now, Hannah, don’t give me that look. What was your impression of that man? And don’t you think it’s odd that all of Sam’s documentation is faked? There’s much more going on here than we know.”

 

“I like Ellen,” Hannah observed, glancing down the hall where the brunette woman stood talking on the phone.

 

Dr. Nick turned his head to follow her line of vision and nodded. “Me too. But Mr. Winchester has all the signs of a possible problem.” He signed the last form and added its file to his already-sizable stack. “That’s why I was – _maybe_ – a little intense. I wanted to see if he loved his son. He does. He just needs to deal with whatever baggage is in the way.”

 

“Why, Dr. Nick, I’m starting to suspect you’re a softie,” Hannah teased.

 

“Don’t you dare,” he warned as shelved the updated folders for the records staff. “You all done?”

 

“Nearly,” she answered. “Have a good night.”

 

Dr. Nick hesitated, and Hannah gave him a questioning look.

 

“I’m going to check with Zeke, make sure that he’s scheduled for this ward for the next several days, but…um…would you like to get a coffee after that?”

 

Hannah beamed. “That sounds lovely.”

 

\+ + + +

 

 

Castiel trudged up the stairs to his apartment, each step more difficult than that last. He barely managed to retrieve his hidden key from the loose slat above the doorframe. Mr. Whisker’s plaintive meows echoed down the hallway, and when Castiel finally got the door open, he found himself with an armful of furball before he could even get inside.

 

“Oh, poor thing,” he murmured, using his injured arm to carefully cradle the cat while he shut and locked the door. He tossed his spare key on the counter, only then noticing that Gabriel had left a fresh pumpkin pie along with his house keys.

 

Castiel smiled and then peered closer at the saran-wrapped pie. “Hmmm. Did the pie come with those paw prints? Or is that your contribution?,” he asked his cat. Mr. Whiskers’s only answer was to rub his head on Castiel’s chin, which made him smile. Castiel stroked the purring kitty’s back and made his way to the couch, where he promptly collapsed.

 

Mr. Whiskers didn’t miss a beat, curling up on Castiel’s lap and happily sniffing his makeshift hospital top. Castiel pet the cat with his uninjured arm and surveyed the room, which seemed so foreign after being in the hospital.

 

The tree especially seemed stark and oddly placed, and Castiel stared at it a moment, confused. With everything that had happened, he hadn’t fully realized it was Christmas Day.

 

He zoned out – or maybe even dozed off – but the sound of someone loudly knocking on the door and jiggling the doorknob brought him back to awareness. Before he could panic, Naomi’s voice called out, “Castiel? I have keys. May I let myself in?”

 

“Yes,” he answered loudly, for once grateful that she was so willing to use her manager’s keys so that he didn’t have to get up.

 

Mrs. Angelo came in, with Metatron Jr. on her heels, and headed straight for Castiel, wrapping him in a big hug. Mr. Whiskers smartly made a break for it and cowered under the Christmas tree.

 

“Oh, my boy, I was so worried for you,” she exclaimed, taking the seat beside him. “Mr. Hornblower told us everything – have you called him? He wants you to call him.”

 

Castiel shook his head. “My cell phone died.” He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it on the table.

 

“Ma, what should I do with these?”

 

Only then did Castiel notice that Metatron was carrying two lidded dishes, carefully stacked on top of one another. “Set those on the counter,” she instructed. “I’ll put them away. Then go and call Mr. Hornblower and tell him Castiel is home safely. His number’s on my desk.”

 

Metatron thunked the dishes on the countertop, wincing at the noise from his less-than-delicate treatment. “Sorry,” he muttered. He cocked a finger gun at Castiel, “Glad you’re okay,” and went out the door to do his mother’s bidding.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?,” she asked.

 

Castiel shook his head. “Not really.”

 

She patted his hand and smiled. “I understand. Let me make you a small plate – are you in the mood for breakfast or dinner? I baked you a breakfast casserole and a lasagna.”

 

Castiel started to protest, but his stomach growled, letting him know that yes, he _was_ hungry. “Breakfast, please.”

 

Naomi fussed over him, bringing him a pillow from his bed and getting him positioned so that his injured arm wasn’t cramped. After she covered him with a blanket, Mr. Whiskers came out of hiding and claimed the spot between Castiel’s feet, though the cat kept a careful watch as Naomi moved about the living room, plugging in the tree and hooking Castiel’s phone up to the charger.

 

After everything was settled in the living room area, Naomi moved to the kitchen, starting a fresh pot of tea and making Castiel a plate. “Does Mr. Hornblower bake?,” she asked, catching sight of the pumpkin pie.

 

“He does,” Castiel answered. “He really should run a bakery, not a gas station.”

 

Naomi brought Castiel his dinner and a mug of tea. “He has little experience with cats, I see.”

 

Castiel laughed. “He doesn’t – his wife’s allergic.”

 

While Castiel ate, Naomi puttered around the kitchen, putting away the food she’d brought and checking the pie to see if Mr. Whiskers had broken through the plastic wrap. “Luckily not,” she announced. “Would you like a slice for dessert?”

 

Castiel had only eaten half of what she’d served, and he was full. He’d felt odd since waking up in the hospital, which he’d blamed on his reaction to the medicine. But now a deep throbbing pain in his arm accompanied that oddness.

 

“No, thank you,” he answered, setting his plate on the coffee table beside his charging phone. “I think I’d rather take a nap.”

 

“You poor dear – oh, but wait! Before you go to sleep, where are your pain pills? I’ll set them out with some water for you.”

 

Castiel groaned as he realized something terrible: “I forgot to get them.” When he’d escaped from Sam’s family, he’d left the prescription behind, along with his other paperwork. He sighed, knowing that he’d have to go back to the hospital tomorrow…maybe he could avoid the Singers?

 

Naomi eyed him shrewdly. “That won’t do, Castiel. You’re going to need something. Want me to call the doctor?”

 

“No, no. I’ll make do,” he said, hoping he looked like he was in less pain than he actually was. Apparently he failed, judging by Naomi’s loud “Harrumph.”

 

“Let's see what you've got,” she said, going into the bathroom. He listened as she rifled through his medicine cabinet, and he smiled gratefully when she delivered prescription-strength ibuprofen and a sleep-aid, along with a glass of water.

 

“There’s some other, stronger medicine of your dad’s in there, but taking it’s risky. These should help you to rest, and we’ll get your meds sorted out tomorrow morning. If it gets too bad, you call me, okay?”

 

Castiel downed the pills obediently. “Thank you, Mrs. Angelo. I’ll call if I need you – promise.”

 

She uncharacteristically ruffled his hair. “You take care, young man,” she ordered with a fond smile that Castiel returned.

 

When Naomi left, she locked the deadbolt from the outside and her footsteps quickly faded down the hallway. The comfortable weight of Mr. Whiskers on his shins combined with the food in his stomach and the makeshift drugs left Castiel feeling suspended out of time.

 

He did, however, have the presence of mind to check his phone, only to find that the aging charger's contact hadn't connected quite right; the phone remained very much dead. Castiel fiddled with the cord until it took and gingerly laid his phone on the table, hoping it would revive quickly.

 

Before that could happen, though, the twinkling lights on his tree, the contented purrs of Mr. Whiskers, and a bone-weary exhaustion quickly lulled him to sleep.

\+ + + +


	5. Chapter 5

\+ + + +

 

Ellen had kept her face carefully blank as a representative from Hale Memorial’s admissions department explained that according to Sam’s paperwork, Bobby and Ellen Singer were his parents, not John and Mary Winchester. Inwardly, she was cringing.

 

It had helped that Bobby had taken Jo and Charlie to pick up supplies for the house. The devastated looks on Mary and John’s faces had been terrible to witness, but Ellen knew that a larger audience would have magnified their grief – and their embarrassment. And while Ellen couldn’t protect Mary and John, she was grateful for the chance to shield Jo and Charlie from the true depth of the schism in the family.

 

Once Sam’s documents had been scrutinized, it became clear that they were forged, yet it had still taken Ellen twenty minutes to negotiate with the various administrators. Because Ellen was listed as his mother, she agreed to visually confirm Sam’s identity; afterwards, he would be moved to a private room and all of the family could see him. She didn’t realize at first that John, who’d already said some decidedly impolite things over Sam’s false documents that had earned him a security guard shadow, had followed. Even with Ezekiel on his heels, John had thrown the tantrum that had nearly led to permanent expulsion from hospital grounds.

 

Ellen said a silent prayer of thanks that John hadn’t crossed paths with Castiel. She’d seen the look on Dr. Nick’s face – he didn’t need more incentive to think ill of the Winchesters. Right now, though, John and Mary were sitting by Sam’s side, united in their desire for their youngest son to get well. Ellen hoped their resolve and focus would last.

 

Her phone vibrated, and when she saw Dean’s name on the screen, she silently slipped from the room to take the call. Before he even said hello, she plunged into the main issue:

 

“Hey Dean – Sam’s okay, unconscious but okay.” His sigh of relief could be heard over the phone, and Ellen could picture the worry in his eyes, the furrow in his brow. The image made her heart hurt. She cleared her throat and asked, “Where are you?”

 

He signed again, but this time it wasn’t with relief. “Wisconsin. Wintry mix sidelined me. Has the front hit there?”

 

“I don’t even know,” Ellen answered. “Let me check.” She looked out the window and saw flurries dancing in the beams of the lights lining the hospital’s sidewalks.

 

“No rain yet. Just some flurries - but I’m sure it’ll get worse.” She took a breath, knowing he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “Look, Dean, I know you want to be here, but you shouldn’t risk your life – the doctors are saying Sam’s doing well.”

 

“Why’s he still unconscious, then?”

 

“Doctor says it’s normal, that they’ll have him awake within a day or so.” Though Ellen had texted him full details hours ago, she could hear Dean drumming his fingers on some hard surface, a sure-fire indicator that he was anxiety-ridden.

 

“I don’t have a choice tonight,” he muttered after a long pause.  “The roads are just too icy. I should be able to get out first thing in the morning, though.”

 

“Please be careful?,” she asked.

 

“Of course.” Dean hesitated before asking, “How is everyone?”

 

“Oh, you know – your dad’s scored his own security guard shadow.”

 

Dean snorted. “Seriously?”

 

“Oh, yeah. John came within an inch of getting tasered.” Ellen started to offer details on how that came about but stopped herself. Dean was going to have a hard enough time dealing with Sam using a different last name, and she really didn’t want to get into the details of the secret engagement right now – especially since she didn’t know them.

 

Luckily, Dean didn’t ask questions. Instead, he simply replied, “That figures. And mom?”

 

“She’s quiet – really quiet.” Ellen cleared her throat. “Charlie’s good, though. I mean, she’s upset, but she’s a perky little thing. Bobby took her and Jo to get some groceries and things for the rental. He thought that’d give John and Mary a chance to get past their shock before Charlie sees Sam.”

 

“Good,” Dean said. “They don’t need to upset Charlie – It’s not like she’s not already had enough shitty experiences with hospitals,” he added, his voice thick. Ellen knew he was remembering that long night years ago, when he’d kept vigil with Charlie after her parents had been fatally injured in a car accident.

 

“My thoughts exactly.” Ellen agreed; she waited a beat before asking, “And what about you, Dean? You okay?”

 

“Me? I’m peachy. After all, I’m not the one in a medically induced coma.” He swallowed audibly.  “Listen, I gotta go, Ellen - talk to you later.” He ended the call abruptly, a classic Dean Winchester avoidance tactic.

 

She bowed her head and tried not to think about how Dean was probably sitting in some dank motel room doing his damnedest not to cry.

 

“Ellen?” Bobby’s broad, familiar hand splayed comfortingly across her lower back.

 

She raised her head and smiled at him, even though her eyes were filled with tears.

 

“Momma?,” Jo asked hesitantly, reaching for Charlie’s hand. Ellen looked at her daughter and niece, saw their stricken faces, and realized what conclusions her tears were leading them to.

 

“Everything’s okay, girls,” Ellen clarified. “I promise. It’s just all getting to me, that’s all.”

 

Jo and Charlie nodded, but neither released her hold on the other’s hand.

 

Bobby wrapped Ellen in a hug. “Why don’t you two go on in the room,” he suggested, nodding towards the door to Sam’s room. “Give us a minute.”

 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ellen said into her husband’s chest.

 

“Nowhere else I’d be,” Bobby assured her. She let him comfort her for a couple of minutes and then steeled herself and stepped back, wiping her eyes. He cupped her face with his right hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You sure are one tough cookie, Ellen Singer.”

 

“And don’t you forget it,” she said with a smile, covering his hand with one of hers and letting him know how much he was needed.

 

Bobby nodded, understanding as always. He dropped his hand and laced their fingers together. Hand-in-hand, they walked into Sam’s room but stayed near the doorway.

 

John was stony-faced, his shoulders hunched. Mary stood at the foot of the bed, an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. The young redhead stared at her brother, and Ellen’s heart broke a little – she knew what Charlie was remembering, and she knew that all the reassurances in the world couldn’t keep those terrible memories from resurfacing. Jo stood quietly off to the side, biting her lip nervously.

 

“How long can we stay?,” Bobby asked, his voice pitched low.

 

Ellen glanced at her phone. “Another thirty minutes or so.” She glanced up at her husband and noted his frown, the furrow between his eyes. “He’s better off than he looks. Doctor says he should come out of the coma no problem.”

 

Bobby grunted. “And how’s Dean?”

 

A heavy sigh was Ellen’s answer.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Bobby muttered, tightening his hold on Ellen’s hand.

 

+

 

At Sam’s bedside, they all spoke softly of the weather, the holiday, of anything positive.

 

This meant, of course, that John said little.

 

Snow was falling heavily by the time visiting hours ended. They’d all quietly said their goodbyes, as the evening nurse patiently waited to complete Sam’s care routine for the night, and filed out the door.

 

The ride to the rental house was quiet. Bobby unlocked the door, and the led them into the house. The wafting smell of roasting chicken reminded Ellen that it had been hours since she’d eaten.

 

“Who’s idea was that?”

 

“Mine,” Jo piped up. “I talked dad into buying a crockpot when we got groceries. I figured we’d all be hungry.”

 

Ellen looked at Bobby, brow arched. “Even with the grocery store price mark up?”

 

Bobby flushed. “Kid’s persuasive. She had a good point too. I’m starving.”

 

Ellen squeezed her daughter’s arm affectionately as she passed. “It was a good idea, Jo Beth.”

 

“It was,” Mary agreed, patting Jo on the arm.

 

Ellen gestured towards the island in the center of the kitchen and the stools that surrounded it. “Why don’t you all sit and talk while I finish things up?”

 

“I’d rather help. I need to stay busy,” Mary said.

 

Ellen took one look at her friend and nodded. Mary did need to stay busy – she and John both. Ellen glanced at the barren fireplace, but before she could say anything, Bobby beat her to it.

 

“C’mon, John, let’s bring some wood in.” Bobby gestured towards the back door and waited as John wordlessly buttoned up his coat and pulled on his hat and gloves. Bobby held the door open for John, looking back at Ellen to wink knowingly before following his silent friend outside.

 

Ellen smiled, and with Bobby distracting John, she was free to take care of the girls. Ellen snapped into action and, after cranking the crock pot temperature up, delivered orders, setting Mary to peeling potatoes, Jo to buttering the pre-made dinner rolls, and Charlie to slicing carrots for a vegetable medley. Ellen took on the task of making gravy.

 

As they worked, Mary relaxed enough to tell stories, and as Mary relaxed, so did Charlie and Jo. When Bobby and John finished their chores, John was still strung pretty tight, but he’d gamely helped Bobby bring in enough firewood to see them through several days; then, he’d even volunteered to set the table, taking it upon himself to search the owner’s partially-stocked cabinets until he found what they needed.

 

Within an hour and a half, they were all sitting at the table and enjoying a peaceful meal despite the circumstances that had brought them to Chicago. Ellen looked around at the tired and strained faces of her family, and she knew that while trials still awaited them, for this evening, they’d been granted a small miracle.

 

\+ + + +

 

Charlie had kept quiet all through dinner. She had missed Sam and seeing him for the first time in months, hooked up to the wires and tubes that reminded her too vividly of the night her parents had died, had left her feeling ill. Though listening to conversation casually directed by aunt Ellen and uncle Bobby went a long way towards easing the knot in her stomach, she still wound up pushing food around on her plate and hoping that no one would notice.

 

But her parents were, as always, observant. John’s broad hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “You okay, kiddo?”

 

She looked up into the face of the man who’d willingly taken her in and adopted her after the car wreck all those years ago, and she intended to say that she was fine. Instead, her eyes went blurry with tears, and her bottom lip quivered.

 

Her dad wrapped her up in a hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he promised. “Sam’s going to be fine. You know that, right?”

 

Charlie nodded but sniffled anyway, choking on another sob when John handed her his handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly.

 

“Um, may I be excused?,” she asked.

 

“Of course, honey,” Mary answered. “Do you and Jo have all you need?”

 

The two teens had been assigned the small bedroom just down the hall from the kitchen. “I think so,” Charlie answered.

 

“I already divided up the sheets and towels left by the agency,” Ellen answered. “You want some help making the bed?”

 

“Already done, Ma,” Jo yelled out. She’d excused herself from the table several minutes ago and – apparently – had already set their room up.

 

“Well, guess that answers that,” Ellen answered. “Did you get the wifi password?,” she asked her niece.

 

Charlie shrugged. “No, I’m good. Thanks anyway.” She pretended not to see the concerned looks that the adults exchanged over her disinterest and quickly carried her dishes to the sink before exiting the room with a muttered, “Goodnight.”

 

Still, even when in the room, she could hear the four adults talking in low tones. When she picked out the words – “the accident,” “bad memories,” “triggers,” and “worried” – her stomach twisted. Knowing that they saw right to the heart of things managed to make her feel worse and better, all at the same time.

 

“I gave you top bunk,” Jo said, from inside her burrow of blankets on the bottom bed. “That work?”

 

“Yeah,” Charlie answered in a monotone. “Thanks.” She normally loved having the top bunk, but tonight, she just felt heavy; enthusiasm could not be mustered. Jo’s head popped out of the blankets, concern evident in her expression. 

 

“Hey, you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

 

“I’m fine. I’m just –” Charlie waved her hand in the universal gesture for ‘I don’t know how to finish this sentence.’

 

“You want to talk?”

 

“Nah. I just want some sleep.”

 

“Okay, then. Wake me if you change your mind.” Jo burrowed back into her blankets, and Charlie couldn’t help but smile. Dean always teased Jo about sleeping inside a quilt burrito.

 

The thought of her brother trapped in a motel in bad weather and all that must be weighing heavily on his mind prompted Charlie to pull out her phone and snap a pic of their cousin. She sent it to Dean with the caption, “Burrito Jo.”

 

Charlie flipped off the overhead light and dimmed the small lamp on the dresser before grabbing her toothbrush and pajamas from her duffle and quietly padding across the hall to the bathroom.

 

She changed into her pajamas, washed her face, and was brushing her teeth when the phone buzzed.

 

She swiped the screen to read the text, smiling at Dean’s succinct, “lol”

 

Her phone buzzed again. “How is everybody?”

 

Buzz. “How are you?”

 

Charlie cracked the door to the bathroom and listened to the hum of voices. It was harder to pick out the words now, but she tried. She heard Ellen say imperiously, “You _will_ be nice to his fiancé, John.” Her father muttered something, and Bobby muttered unintelligibly back.

 

Charlie frowned. Whose fiancé were they talking about? It sounded like Sam’s, but she’d talked to Sam just a few days ago, and he hadn’t mentioned anyone. She couldn’t share that insight, though, so she kept her response simple: “OK. They’re talking. Not sure what about.”

 

“And you?,” he texted.

 

“Good.” She hesitated a moment, knowing how Dean hated touchy-feely stuff, before firing off another text. “Love you, bro.”

 

“I know :D,” he replied. Charlie rolled her eyes. Of course he’d Han Solo her.

 

One last buzz. “Get some sleep. See you soon.”

 

“You too,” she texted, making sure the message went through before she turned her phone off.

 

She walked slowly back to the bedroom, listening _very_ carefully to the adults’ ongoing conversation. She froze mid-step when she heard Mary declare forcefully, “I won’t have you be rude to our son and his partner.” Her mother _never_ took that tone, and Charlie waited anxiously for her father’s response.

 

John sighed loudly before grumbling, “Fine.”

 

The conversation started up in earnest again, though still too low to fully understand. Charlie gave up eavesdropping and walked into the bedroom muttering to herself, “They must be talking about Sam – but that makes no sense?!”

 

“What makes no sense?,” Jo asked sleepily.

 

Charlie stamped down a twinge of panic. “Oh, nothing,” she said. _No one_ knew that she’d been in touch with Sam, and no one could – it would only make everyone feel worse. As it was, she’d nearly slipped up earlier and given away that she’d known about his unofficial name change. “Just talking to myself. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Jo answered, clearly more asleep than awake. In mere seconds, light snores emanated from the bottom bunk – which reminded Charlie to dig out her earplugs.

 

She found them in her makeup bag and carefully inserted one into each ear before clambering into the top bunk. As she worked into a comfortable position, she wondered again how Sam had gotten a fiancé she didn’t know about and promised herself that she’d do some snooping tomorrow – after Sam had woken up and Dean had arrived.

 

Her chest tightened, and Charlie curled up into a ball under the borrowed bedding. She thought of snowball fights and trick-or-treating and movie nights and all the fun memories she’d had with her brothers. And then she started planning all the future fun she hoped they’d have.

 

She ignored the fear that taunted her, and eventually, she slept.

 

\+ + + +

 


	6. Chapter 6

\+ + + +

 

Throbbing pain woke Castiel up. His living room was bathed in the grey-white light that marked a snowy dawn; his tree twinkled; his cat snored; and it took him several minutes of staring at the ceiling to remember what had happened.

 

And then he thought of Dean.

 

He grabbed his phone from the nearby table, wincing when his movements stressed his arm, and checked his messages. His heart sank when he saw that there were no new ones. Dean hadn’t even left a voicemail after Castiel had ignored his call in the ambulance.

 

Clumsily, he pulled up a new text message to Dean: “Sorry I missed you.” He paused, not sure how much to tell, before going with, “Was in an accident. OK now but phone died. Hope you had a good Xmas.”

 

He pressed ‘send’ and tossed the phone back on the table before sinking back into the cushions, a motion that had him grimacing from the pain. Mr. Whiskers stretched out a paw, hooking a claw in Castiel’s pants’ leg and letting him know that he was disturbing the cat’s rest.

 

“Sorry, cat,” Castiel said. He started to reach out and scratch the kitty between the ears, like he normally did, but the burning in his arm kept him from completing the gesture. Instead, he steeled his jaw, got to his feet, and stumbled to the bathroom.

 

He rifled the cabinet’s paltry contents until he found an old bottle of his dad’s pain medication. The label was faded, but at this point, Castiel didn’t care what the tablets were – he only cared that they might lessen his agony. He popped the lid and tossed two pills back with some tap water, sparing only a passing glance for his disheveled and haggard reflection. Castiel then made his way back to the couch, shucked off his pants, and reclaimed his now-cat-free spot. He assumed that Mr. Whiskers had once again relocated to a safe spot under the tree.

 

Castiel pulled the blanket up to ward off the chill and stared at the tree and the lights he’d so happily strung. Within a few minutes, his vision went fuzzy, and he fell back asleep.

 

+

 

The insistent buzzing of his phone woke Castiel from his drug-induced sleep. Without opening his eyes, he fumbled for the offending device.

 

“Hello?,” he groaned.

 

“Cassie?,” Gabriel’s voice asked. “You okay? You don’t sound okay.”

 

Castiel heaved himself to a sitting position with a grunt. “I’m fine.” He glanced at the clock and blinked blearily, finally making out that it was nearly ten. “I’m sorry I didn’t call in – I don’t think I can work today.”

 

“Of course you can’t work today – I’ve already taken you off the schedule.”

 

“You did? Why?” Castiel closed his eyes against the moving room.

 

There was a long pause. “Castiel, seriously, are you okay?”

 

Castiel scrubbed a hand over his face, stifling a groan at the pain caused by the movement. “Yes. I mean, no – I left my pain meds prescriptions at the hospital, so I took something of dad’s, and –”

 

“Shit, you shouldn’t have done that, Cas. Your dad was on really strong stuff, and there’s no telling what it can do to you.” Gabriel shuffled some things around noisily. “Look, I’ve got to meet with this distributor, but I can be at your place by 2 pm, and I’ll take you back to the doctor.”

 

“I can walk,” Castiel said defensively.

 

Gabriel let loose a long low whistle. “Yeah, you’re out of it – and delusional. Eat something. Drink water. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hesitated – “Or I can call Mrs. Angelo? Maybe she and Metatron can take you—”

 

“No,” Castiel said. “I – No,” he repeated. “I’ll wait till you get off work. Thank you.”

 

“It’s the least I can do. Oh, and hey – there’s a rep from the Gas ‘N Sip who’s going to get in touch with you about the accident.”

 

“But… I didn’t do anything wrong?”

 

“No, you didn’t, but it happened on company grounds. It’s nothing to worry about, Cassie.  If I have my way, they’ll offer you a hefty settlement.”

 

Castiel tried to follow Gabriel’s train of thought, but his brain was so fuzzy. “For what?”

 

Gabe sighed. “Nevermind. Eat. Drink water. Put on clean clothes. I’ll see you soon.”

 

The line went dead, and it took Castiel a good twenty seconds to realize it. _Maybe Gabriel’s right about dad’s medicine_ , he thought. Then, he stood and nearly fell from the room’s sudden decision to spin.

 

“Whoa,” Castiel said, throwing his good arm out for balance. He looked at his clearly alarmed cat, who was watching him from underneath the tree. “Hungry?”

 

He stumbled into the kitchen and rattled Mr. Whisker’s bag of cat food. The cat came running when Castiel refilled his food bowl. The water bowl was trickier to fill, but Cas finally managed it despite his dizziness. Or rather, he mostly managed it. There may have been a puddle of water on the floor beside the bowl, but in his current state of mind, Castiel saw it as Mr. Whiskers’s reserve supply.

 

Food for himself was trickier, and it took some concentration to get the breakfast casserole dish out of the refrigerator. He plunked it onto the counter and scooped a generous portion into a bowl and microwaved it. The smell made his stomach growl. Castiel wolfed down his food while standing at the counter and, remembering Gabriel’s edict, drank two glasses of water. He burped loudly when he finished and wiped his mouth messily with the back of his hand. He stood a moment, still feeling dazed, and wondered, _Did I just do that? Really?_

 

A few more moments passed, and Castiel felt a little more clear-headed and decided he’d get cleaned up. He couldn’t remember what time Gabriel had said he’d come, but he knew it was soon.

 

Castiel decided to take a bath to avoid getting his injury wet, and while the water was running, he took inventory of his appearance: He’d seen better days. His eyes looked wild; he had circles; and he definitely needed to shave. He shucked off the rest of his clothing and had one foot in the warm bath water when his phone chimed.

 

Clumsily, and with great splashes of water, he grabbed it, nearly crying when he saw Dean’s name and the “new text message” notification.

 

“ARE YOU OKAY?” was all it said, but those three words warmed the cockles of his heart.

 

“I am, thanks,” he typed back.

 

His phone rang, and Castiel took a deep breath before answering. He managed to say, “Hello Dean” without his voice quavering once.

 

“Cas! What happened?”

 

“It was a –“ Cas hesitated to spill the whole story over the phone, especially since he still wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted the attack. “It’s a long story? But I’m okay. Mostly.”

 

“I’m glad.” Dean chuckled self-consciously. “When you didn’t call back, I thought–” he paused, swallowed – “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You home for the holidays?”  


“Yes – with everything going on, I forgot about Christmas, actually. My cat still hasn’t gotten his presents.”

 

“Oh, poor kitty,” Dean teased. His tone then turned serious. “I know what you mean, though. I’m actually heading your way now, if I can get through this ridiculous traffic.”

 

“Did you make contact with your brother?,” Castiel asked.

 

Dean barked a brittle laugh. “Not exactly, but it is a family emergency.” Castiel barely heard his muttered, “If there is such a thing as ‘family’ anymore.”

 

Castiel knew immediately not to pry. “Family” was Dean’s line in the sand, and he would shut down any inquiries with a redirect. So, Castiel settled for saying, “I hope everything’s okay. I’m sure your family appreciates your coming.”

 

Dean snorted. “I hope so.” A loud blast of the horn burst through the phone. “Dammit. Listen, Cas, I gotta go. This idiot just ran off the road and is stuck in a snowdrift—”

 

“And you’re going to stop and help him aren’t you?,” Castiel asked smiling. “Like the good man you are?”

 

He could practically _hear_ Dean blush through the phone. “It’s not like that,” Dean said dismissively. “No one else is stopping, and he’s driving one of those shit foreign cars. He’ll never get out in this weather.”

 

“Okay,” Castiel said, humoring Dean’s inability to take a compliment. “Dean? Be careful, please.”  


“Uh – yeah. You too, Cas. I’m glad you’re okay and – um… if you want, maybe I can see you while I’m in town?”

 

“I’d like that a lot, Dean.”

 

“Um, you would? Good,” Dean said, sounding pleased. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Dean. I hope everything’s okay with your family.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The call ended and Castiel’s smile stretched so wide his cheeks hurt.  Only the trickling of water running over the tub’s rim brought him out of his Dean-induced haze of happiness.

 

“Crap,” he muttered, half sliding to the tub and turning the water off. He pulled the plug enough for the water to recede to a safe level and threw his few towels along the floor to sop up the spillage, keeping one for drying off later.

 

He sank into the water and moaned as the warmth enveloped his sore muscles. He really didn’t feel like himself – his head felt cottony, his arm hurt, and his body ached. Propping his left elbow on the soap shelf to keep his injury dry, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

 

Soon, Castiel found himself sort of… floating, not fully asleep, but not really awake either. He replayed the events of his last shift at the store, still not quite believing that everything that had happened _happened_. And he thought about Dean – with his bright green eyes, his kind smile, his deep voice…

 

Surprisingly, a pleasant feeling coiled in his stomach, and Castiel instinctively reached between his legs and began stroking himself. His imagination didn’t need any further encouragement, and he was soon picturing Dean’s lips on his, Dean’s hands stroking up and down his shaft, Dean’s thumb pressing into the slit – no, wait. Dean was _tonguing_ the slit, and….  That image did it. Castiel worked himself through his orgasm as his chest was splattered with come. One stray drop even reached his bottom lip, and without hesitation, Castiel licked it. The taste made him all the more interested in tasting Dean’s…

 

Before he could take that thought further, a pulse of pain in his left arm made him realize that while he had been otherwise occupied, his position had shifted, much to the detriment of his pain threshold. Castiel carefully lathered up a washcloth and cleaned himself while the tub drained. He awkwardly washed his hair under the faucet and rinsed his body with the hand-held extension.

 

A glance in the mirror showed him that his eyes were brighter now and his cheeks flushed… which only made him flush deeper. He still wasn’t sure exactly how Dean saw him, but there was no hiding from how he saw Dean – not now.

 

His phone rang. “Hello?”

 

“It’s me,” Gabriel said. “I got finished early and am almost there. You ready?”

 

“I will be by the time you get there,” Castiel promised.

 

“Well, dress warm. This storm’s not kidding around.” Castiel hadn’t even noticed the weather, but Gabriel’s brotherly advice had him opening the blinds on his bedroom windows.

 

It was snowmageddon – thick, heavy flakes being tossed about by high winds. He wondered how Dean was doing on the road, and then realized that he had no idea where Dean was coming _from_. He hadn’t even thought to ask. Gabriel was right; he really wasn’t thinking clearly.

 

He had the sense to dig out his flannel-lined jeans and a fleece vest to wear over his long-sleeved shirt. He got the jeans on fine, but the shirts – they were a different story. He was still struggling to get the undershirt on when a sharp rap sounded at the door.

 

“Coming,” he yelled. His shirt was hanging around his neck, his bandage had come off, and his wound was red and irritated from him trying to maneuver. He sighed heavily, feeling thoroughly humiliated over answering the door in such a condition.

 

Sure enough, Gabriel’s eyes widened when Castiel opened the door, and then he burst into full-on laughter.

 

“It’s not funny,” Castiel groused.

 

“Oh, yeah. It is,” Gabriel promised. “You look like that poster of the cat who got tangled up in a hammock – you know the one?”

 

Castiel grimaced in lieu of speaking.

 

“Whatever. You do,” Gabriel said. “Now, hold still.” He held up his phone and took a picture before Castiel could protest. “I’m keeping that one _forever_. Maybe I’ll even print you a copy.”

 

“Gabriel.”

 

“Or use it for the employee of the month picture?”

 

“ _Gabriel_.”

 

“Okay, okay, fine. All jokes aside, let’s get you dressed, kitten. You’re going to freeze like that.”

 

Gabriel pulled the shirt off Castiel, pronouncing it too difficult for the circumstances. He rummaged through Cas’s closet until he found a button up flannel shirt. “Here,” he said, tossing it on the bed before digging through the dresser drawers for an undershirt. “And sit down. You’re too tall for me.”

 

Castiel awkwardly sat at the edge of the bed and let Gabriel work him into a black tank and then guide his arms into the button-up.

 

“There,” Gabriel said, finishing up the buttons. “We’ll make up for the lack of layers with an extra scarf and hat, okay?”

 

Castiel nodded meekly, both grateful and chagrined at receiving so much help. “Shoes, mister,” Gabriel ordered, holding up Cas’s boots.

 

Cas complied, sliding his feet in and letting Gabriel do up the laces. His cheeks burned. “Thanks, Gabriel,” he said.

 

Gabriel patted his cheek. “Don’t mention it, Cassie. You’d do the same for me.”

 

Castiel swallowed hard and nodded. He surely hoped he would.

 

+

 

They got to the hospital without incident, though all the moving around had done Castiel no favors in the pain department. Gabriel went to the nurse’s desk and explained the situation.

 

Hannah came and escorted Castiel to an exam room, explaining that Dr. Nick wanted to take a look at his arm while he was there.

 

Luckily, the doctor found them quickly, pronounced Castiel to be in good shape, and gave him a shot of the “good stuff” to help him get through the day. Castiel felt the relief immediately.

 

“And don’t forget these this time,” Nick said, handing him the prescriptions.

 

“I won’t,” Castiel promised, sticking them into his jeans pocket. “Believe me. I learned my lesson.”

 

Dr. Nick smiled shyly at Hannah before leaving to continue his rounds. Her cheeks pink, she turned briskly to Castiel.

 

“We also need to finish processing your paperwork,” she said, rifling through his sheaf of paperwork. “Why did you leave so suddenly yesterday?”

 

“I – um.” Castiel didn’t quite know how to answer, so he settled on a version of the truth. “Sam’s parents arrived, and I felt like I was in the way.”

 

Hannah went strangely quiet. “Yes, they’re an – odd – bunch, aren’t they?” She hesitated. “No one’s up there right now, if you want to check on him.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“He’s good – Dr. Nick expects him to wake up sometime in the next 18 hours. Then, we can assess how long his recovery will take.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“It is.” She found the checkout form and handed it to Castiel before patting his uninjured shoulder. “I can walk you up there, if you like?”

 

“Um… sure?,” Castiel said. “I need to tell Gabriel, though.”

 

When Castiel walked around the corner into the waiting area, he saw Gabriel engrossed in a conversation with a tall, lanky man. Gabriel saw Castiel approaching, widened his eyes and subtly shook his head no.

 

Castiel frowned and pulled out his phone to text: “?? Going to see Sam. All ok?”

 

Castiel watched as Gabriel held a hand up to his talking companion and checked his phone, replying immediately. “Will come get you. All ok. Will explain later.”

 

Confused, Castiel looked back at Gabriel, who was clearly ignoring him now. With a shrug, he walked back towards the exam room and met Hannah, who had just updated his online file. “You’re all set,” she said, handing him a brochure about payment plans as they walked to the elevator.

 

“Yay,” he said dourly, folding it and sliding it into his other pocket.

 

“I know,” Hannah acknowledged with a sad smile. “I wish health care weren’t so expensive. I’m still paying for the emergency appendectomy I had last year.” She paused before adding, “There are good people in the billing department, though. They’ll work with you. And if you have any trouble, you let me know, and I’ll talk to them. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Cas promised. “Thanks.”

 

The doors slid open, and Hannah pointed him in the direction of Sam’s room. “Take as long as you need,” she advised. “If you want to stay when the rest of his family’s here, you do that, okay?”

 

“Um… sure,” Castiel said with a nod. Hesitantly, he went into Sam’s room. His friend lay quiet and still. Castiel took a deep breath and took the seat closest to the bed.

 

“Hello, Sam,” he said quietly. “I hope you had a good visit with your family. They seemed…. Um…. Nice?”

 

A loud laugh startled Castiel, and he quickly stood and turned to face whomever it was.

 

“Nice is one way to put it,” said a tall man standing in the doorway. He walked forward and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Bobby Singer, and you must be Castiel.”

 

“I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Singer,” Castiel said, shaking his hand.

 

The dark-haired woman from yesterday entered the room. “Oh, you’re here,” she exclaimed, walking over and hugging Castiel. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just kind of smiled awkwardly. She didn’t seem to mind or even notice how shocked he was at the affection.

 

She did, however, notice him looking anxiously over her shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, kid. John’s not here.”

 

Bobby slipped an arm around Ellen’s waist. “Yeah, they were all here this morning, terrorizing the nurses. We’re trying to convince them to come in shifts, so we’re here now, and the others will come by later. They’re all at the house, getting some rest right now. No one slept very well last night.”   

 

“That’s understandable,” Castiel commented. He tilted his head. “Wait – you live here?”

 

“No,” Ellen answered with a shake of her head. “We rented a place. Knew we’d need to be here several days at least, and it gives us a command central where we can regroup.” She eyed Castiel shrewdly. “You should come for dinner.”

 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t –” he protested.

 

“You can and you will,” she said decisively. “Any allergies?”

 

“Uh… no?”

 

“Good. Let’s say tomorrow night?”

 

“Ellen,” Bobby said, a warning tone in his voice.

 

“I’m being optimistic,” Ellen huffed. “Okay, then, let’s say I’ll text you the time and place when we know for sure.” She whacked Bobby in the stomach with the back of her hand. “This one’s right – until Sam wakes, we shouldn’t make any big plans.”

 

“Well, speaking of, Sam looks good right now. Has his condition changed?,” Bobby asked Castiel.

 

“Not that I know of, but I can get the doctor if you’d like.”

 

“No, no, I trust you,” Bobby assured him. He walked over and held Sam’s hand a moment. “I hope he wakes up soon, though. It’s been a long time since…” His voice cracked, and it was Ellen’s turn to hug him.

 

Castiel’s eyes burned as he watched them comfort each other. He wondered, again, at what had driven such a wedge between Sam and his parents. They seemed lovely to him… and what was with the angry man they’d called John?

 

Ellen wiped her eyes and turned back to Castiel, handing him her phone. “Put your number in?”

 

“Um, okay,” he agreed, following her directions. He still felt a bit odd about joining the family for dinner, but maybe it would be okay – nice even? They seemed like such loving people.

 

As if to further prove the point, Ellen hugged him again and patted his cheek. “Thank you for saving our boy. And I’m so glad that you’re up and about. You’ve got more color today.”

 

He flushed deeply and flushed even more when Bobby hugged him too. “We always wanted Sam to find someone nice,” Bobby commented.

 

“We’re really glad he found you,” Ellen added. “You take care, Castiel, and we’ll see you again soon.”

 

Shocked into silence, Castiel stared as the couple left the room, bickering lovingly about something or other. He sank into the chair at Sam’s bedside and stared at his friend as the pieces fell into place.

 

“Oh, _crap_.”

 

\+ + + +


	7. Chapter 7

\+ + + +

 

Castiel was still staring into space when Gabriel arrived. “Heya, Bucko,” Gabriel said cheerily. “How’s sleeping beauty?”

 

“Sleeping,” Castiel answered absently.

 

“I can see that.” Gabriel eyed him. “What’s with you? I didn’t mean to ditch you downstairs. That was Garth, and he’s—”

 

“No, no. That’s fine - It’s…. um…”

 

“What?”

 

“Sam’s family thinks we’re together.”

 

“Huh? Why would they think you and I are together?”

 

“No, Gabriel – like, me and Sam together.”

 

“ _Together_ together?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.

 

"Yes."

 

Gabriel looked at Sam and then at Castiel. “Are you sure?”

 

Just then, Hannah came into the room to check Sam’s vitals. “How is everyone today?,” she asked.

 

“Peachy,” Gabriel answered with a wide grin. “Have you heard the good news about Cassie-nova and Sam?”

 

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Castiel exclaimed.

 

Hannah grinned. “Oh, yes,” she answered. “We’ve known since they arrived.”

 

Castiel stared. Gabriel choked on a laugh.

 

“Known what?,” Castiel managed to croak out.

 

“Why, that you’re engaged. We’ve made notes on all your records to make sure no one gives you a hard time about it, either.”

 

“ _Why_ did you do that?,” Cas asked.  

 

“Because you said you were his fiancé.”

 

“I did _not_ ,” Castiel answered indignantly.

 

“You did – you… _oh_.” Hannah went pale and spluttered, “But – but your chart. It _says_ ….”

 

“The chart’s wrong,” Castiel said wearily, not even looking at Gabriel as his friend lost the battle and guffawed loudly.

 

Castiel rubbed his temples and tried to figure out what happened. He froze. “Oh, God. The paramedic. She kept calling Sam my boyfriend – “

 

“And you didn’t correct her?” Hannah asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Gabriel stopped laughing. “Oh no,” he protested, holding up a hand. “This is _not_ on Castiel. He was damn near unconscious from blood loss and lucky he wasn’t in worse shape.” He glared at Hannah. “Next time bored staff want to invent a grand romance, just – _don’t_ , okay?”

 

Hannah made a face, clearly not appreciating his tone. She turned to Castiel. “Well, now that you know, why don’t you tell his family that you’re single and end this entire conversation?”

 

Castiel sighed heavily. “Tell them? How? His parents are so nice. I'm even supposed to have dinner with them to celebrate Sam’s return to consciousness.. after he returns, of course.” 

 

Gabriel laughed and even Hannah had to cover her mouth to stifle what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. “It’s not funny,” Castiel argued.

 

“Oh yes it is, Cassie. It really is, and it explains so much.” Gabriel rested a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here – but, first,“ Gabriel added, addressing Hannah, "Castiel needs Beauty’s keys.”

 

Hannah eyed them suspiciously. “If Castiel isn’t his fiancé, then I shouldn’t give him _anything_ of Sam’s.”

 

Gabriel eyed her right back. “So far as the records show, Castiel _is_ his fiancé, right?”

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“And that notation has been duplicated God only knows how many times by now, right?”

 

“Yes, but—”

 

“And did you know that I have a brother – you may have heard of him, Raphael Hornblower? – who just _loves_ suing hospitals?”

 

Hannah blanched at that, and Castiel stared at Gabriel in surprise. As long as he’d known the man, he hadn’t known that Raphael, whose face was plastered on billboards all over the city, was Gabriel’s brother. No wonder his friend avoided family reunions like the plague. 

 

Castiel watched as emotions played across Hannah’s face. After a long moment, she nodded, suggesting, “How about we forget the last ten minutes of our conversation?”

 

“Fine by me,” Gabriel said. “Cas?”

 

“Yes, please,” Castiel said. Hannah again looked at him suspiciously, so he explained, “I know Sam has difficulties with his family. I’d hate to make them worse because of a misunderstanding that we can clear up as soon as he wakes.”

 

Understanding lit Hannah's features. “Agreed,” she said. She opened the doors to a nearby cabinet and retrieved the bin of Sam’s belongings, handing it to Gabriel. “Here’s what survived. Put the bin back before you leave.”

 

She patted Castiel’s hand. “Good luck – I met his dad. You’re going to need it.” She gave him one more sympathetic smile and left the room, her brisk footsteps echoing along the quiet corridor.

 

“What was that about?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “I have no idea. I thought his father was perfectly pleasant. She must be talking about the angry man – I think he may be an uncle or something?”

 

Gabriel dug through the bin and found the keys. “Bingo,” he exclaimed, handing them off to Castiel. “His roomies called the store when they heard the news. After I assured them that you were both going to live, they begged me to feed their guinea pig.”

 

Alarmed, Castiel asked, “How long can guinea pigs go without food?”

 

“You’re such a softie,” Gabriel chided. “The rodent’s probably hungry, but I’m sure it’s alive and well.”

 

+

 

The guinea pig, a rotund black and white creature named Crowley, was in fact alive and mostly well. It may or may not have tried to bite Gabriel as he was pouring the food into his bowl. Crowley took right to Castiel, though, so he was tasked with entertaining the “demonic rodent” while Gabriel freshened its cage and refilled its water bottle.

 

Crowley was running up and down Castiel’s outstretched legs when Gabriel took a break from cage duty. “Oh, I meant to tell you – that guy I was talking to at the hospital?”

 

“Oh, yeah, the one in the waiting room?”

 

“Yeah, you’ll never guess who he was.” Gabriel grinned, clearly wanting Castiel to guess. Castiel rolled his eyes.

 

“Please don’t make me guess, Gabriel.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Gabriel muttered. “He’s a reporter working on a story about Sam.”

 

Castiel froze. “What did you tell him, Gabriel?”

 

“You mean did I confirm your fairytale romance? Nah, I didn’t know anything about that.”

 

Castiel slumped with relief; he definitely didn’t want the truth to come out via newspaper. Gabriel continued, “He did ask about you, though. I didn’t get too personal – that’s why I waved you away. He _wanted_ all kinds of details. I figured it would make you uncomfortable.”

 

“You figured right,” Castiel said. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“No, really. Thanks for everything.”

 

Gabriel smiled. “I told you, Cassie. We’re family.” He held his hands out. “Here, give me the cranky critter.”

 

Castiel scooped Crowley up and passed him over.

 

“There you go, rat,” Gabriel said, settling Crowley into his cage. He secured the door and stepped back. “Heh. He looks happy.”

 

Castiel nodded. “Captivity seems to agree with him.”

 

“Yep,” Gabriel agreed, pulling out his cell. “Let me text the roomies. Tell them their furry friend is fed and watered.”

 

“Where are his roommates?”

 

“Sarah’s in New York with family. Just as well that she’s not here: A wanna-be girlfriend would only complicate things.” Gabriel typed quickly, hitting send. He pocketed his phone and then snapped his fingers. “Oh, and the guy whose name I can never remember is in Europe.”

 

“Wait – wanna-be girlfriend?” 

 

“Oh yeah – you never picked up on those vibes?” Gabriel chuckled when Castiel shook his head – and then Gabe froze. “Wait, you don’t like _like_ Sam, do you?”

 

“Me? _No_ ,” Castiel said. “Not at all" He slumped. "And I – I just don’t know how this situation can be corrected without extreme awkwardness.”

 

Gabriel pursed his mouth in contemplation. “Well, you _could_ run away to Italy.”

 

Castiel scowled. He’d travel to Italy in a heartbeat if he only had the means, and Gabriel knew it.

 

“Or, you can go along with it. When Sam comes out of coma, his family will probably be grateful – after all, you saved his life. There’s no changing that.” Gabriel smirked wickedly, adding, “And if he doesn’t come out of it – Well, who’s to know?”

 

“ _Gabriel_.”

 

“Kidding, kidding. Don’t worry about it, Cassie. It’ll be fine. But if anybody gives you a hard time, you call me, you hear?”

 

“Yeah, I hear.”

 

“Good. Now, let’s get your scripts and get you home before the luxury pain meds wear off.”

 

\+ + + +

 

Ellen kept an eye on the clock. Mary was anxious about Dean driving in the snow, and John’s tenseness increased each time Mary asked if anyone had heard from their eldest son. Bobby had turned the television to a Cary Grant marathon on a classic movie channel, which had quickly sent John into a doze. Mary followed soon after, and Ellen was glad. Both of them were exhausted.

 

Charlie and Jo had lasted for about an hour before pulling out their laptops for some virtual farming and candy crushing. Bobby loved Cary Grant (so did she), and he made it through most of _Arsenic and Old Lace_ before his eyes began to droop.

 

The movie ended at 4:30, and Ellen checked her phone for the hundredth time – but there was still no word from Dean. She slipped upstairs to the bedroom she and Bobby had claimed and called the wayward Winchester.

 

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey Ellen. I was just about to call you.” Dean’s voice was strained and tired.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

Dean sighed. “No. I helped pull a guy’s crappy foreign car out of a snowbank and fucked up the truck.”

 

“Oh, Dean.”

 

“Um... don’t tell dad?,” Dean asked. He sounded so young that Ellen’s heart clenched.

 

“Of course not, sweetie. What happened?”

 

“I let the other driver check the cable, and he re-attached it to the front grill – tore the whole damn thing off.”

 

Ellen tsked. “What a moron.”

 

“I know. I should’ve checked.”

 

Ellen froze when she realized how Dean had taken her comment. And then she got angry. “Dean Winchester, you know damn well that I’m not calling _you_ a moron. It’s not your fault the guy messed up.”

 

“I should’ve checked…”

 

“Where were you when he did that?,” Ellen demanded.

 

“Behind the wheel,” Dean admitted.

 

“So you couldn’t see what the moron did?”

 

“No.”

 

“Let it go, Dean,” she ordered. “We want you here, but we’re fine. Sam’s fine. The doctors expect him to wake up soon.”

 

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. “He’s really okay?”

 

“He is. He’s not going to be instantly cured, but the doctor expects a full recovery. Now, when do you think you’ll be here?”

 

“The shop’s started on the truck, but they needed a couple parts that are being overnighted. They think they can have me finished and on the road by 9.”

 

“And where are you staying tonight?”

 

“Oh, there’s a fleabag motel across the street. It’ll do for tonight.”

 

“And what about food?,” Ellen asked in a motherly tone. “You can’t live off of pork rinds and soda. I know how you eat when you’re on the road.”

 

Dean chuckled. “There’s a diner about a block down the street. I’ll survive.”

 

Ellen smiled, happy that he could muster a laugh. “Well, take care of yourself. And when you get here, we’ve got a room set aside and ready for you. You’ve got the address?”

 

“Yeah. And Ellen? Thanks for not saying anything.”

 

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll tell everyone that the weather’s caused complications and it’s too dangerous for you to drive tonight – which it has and it is. They won’t ask questions.”

 

“Thanks,” he said gruffly. Ellen thought she heard him sniffle but didn’t press.

 

“You might text them, though – just some kind of note. Both of them will be glad to hear directly from you.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I will. See you soon, Ellen.”

 

“Love you.”

 

The call ended, and she wondered if he’d even heard her. Bobby came up behind her and started rubbing her shoulders. “He okay?”

 

“Stuck overnight again. Beating himself up for something that’s not his fault again.” Bobby sighed. Ellen turned and let her husband envelop her in a hug. “He actually thought I was calling _him_ a moron. Does he think that little of me?”

 

“No,” Bobby said, resting his chin on her head. “He thinks the world of you, and he knows he can trust you. That’s why he’s calling you and not his parents right now. But when things go wrong, Dean kicks himself. Always has.”

 

“Sometimes…”

 

“Sometimes what?”

 

“Sometimes I’d like to punch John in the nose.”

 

Bobby snorted. “Join the club. He’s a good man at heart, but he’s always had communication issues.”

 

“That’s a polite way to put it.”

 

“Well, what’d you expect? My momma raised a polite boy.”

 

\+ + + +

 

Later that evening, after some re-heated lasagna, a slice of pie, and two of his pain pills, Castiel was feeling good. He had changed into pajamas, started _National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,_ and settled comfortably on the couch. Mr. Whiskers, happily stoned off catnip, lay in the floor, rolling and twisting. The room was bathed in the cheerful glow of the Christmas tree lights, and Castiel felt quite peaceful – even content (so long as he didn’t think about Sam and the Singers).

 

Clark had just blown the power when Castiel’s phone rang. He nearly dropped the phone when he realized that Dean was calling.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Cas? I – uh – didn’t call at a bad time, did I?”

 

“No, you’re calling at a fine time. How are you, Dean?”

 

“I’m good.” Dean’s voice didn’t sound quite right, and when he asked, “How are you?,” Castiel politely ignored the question.

 

“How are you really, Dean?” Castiel paused the film. “Are things okay with your family? Your brother?”

 

“They’re okay, or so they tell me.”

 

“You’re not there yet? Where are you driving in from?”

 

“Wisconsin – not that far, but that douche from this morning? I helped him and broke my truck in the process.”

 

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

 

“Yeah, it does. But my aunt says my brother’s fine, and if the shop works as fast as it promises, I’ll be in Chicago sometime mid-afternoon.”

 

“I’m glad.” Castiel hesitated but decided to take a chance. “So what happened?”

 

Dean breathed out heavily. “Cas…it’s such a long story, man.”

 

“I’m a good listener,” Castiel offered.

 

“I’m a bad talker. Look, I’m not trying to keep secrets. I just… um. I’d rather talk not talk about it on the phone. That okay?”

 

“It is,” Castiel answered, thinking of how he’d carefully avoided mentioning his own adventures over the past few days. Some stories were better shared in person. “Raincheck?”

 

“Raincheck. Now, what were you and Mr. Whiskers doing before I called?”

 

“Watching _Christmas Vacation_ – have you seen it?”

 

Dean scoffed. “Have I seen it? Is Spock’s father Vulcan?”

 

“Um. I actually don’t know who Spock is,” Castiel sheepishly admitted.

 

“Oh. My. God. Well, we’re remedying that asap.” Dean paused and cleared his throat. “But for now, um… Want to watch the Griswold’s adventures together? I’ve got a copy on my laptop…”

 

He trailed off, and Castiel, smiling widely, pressed the “resume from beginning” option. “Yes, Dean, I’d like that very much.”

 

\+ + + +

  

Castiel woke up on the couch, wearing the same smile he’d fallen asleep with. He and Dean had chatted, sharing National Lampoon trivia, and laughing at the funniest parts. Neither had taken the conversation any deeper, yet there was a burgeoning closeness that Castiel wanted to embrace. He thought – he hoped – that maybe Dean did, too, but he wasn’t sure. Still, they’d made tentative plans to get together later this weekend, if all went well with Dean’s family.

 

He moved to get up and felt the uncomfortable stretching of stitched together flesh, which immediately reminded him of the accident, of Sam, Sam’s parents, and the fact that they thought he was engaged to their son. Castiel’s stomach twisted, and he groaned. “How can I feel like a cheater when I’m _not cheating_?”

 

Mr. Whiskers's only answer was a jaw-cracking yawn. "That's helpful," Castiel muttered.

 

Wide-awake, he began puttering around the apartment, washing dishes and tidying. When everything was neat and orderly, he checked the time and was dismayed to find it barely 3 am. He sighed; nervous energy still thrummed through his veins, and he thought of Sam lying in the hospital bed, pale and small.

 

Castiel remembered his father, and suddenly, he knew he had to check on his friend, even if it was the middle of the night. He bundled up and headed out.

 

On the way out, he ran into Metatron Jr., who was clearly returning from a raucous night out.

 

“Castiel!,” he slurred. “How you doin’?”

 

“I’m fine, Metatron. You?”

 

“I’m great.” Metatron leered at him. “I’ll be even better tomorrow night at 8 o’clock.”

 

Castiel decided to take the bait. “And what’s happening then?”

 

“You and me at the Ice Capades, gorgeous. _That’s_ what’s happening.”

 

Castiel shook his head firmly. “I’m not going out with you, Metatron.”

 

“Aw, Cassie,” Metatron said, pouting. He even stamped his foot petulantly.

 

“Have a good night – or morning,” Castiel said, ignoring the childish display. “I’ll see you later. Please, give my best to your mother.”

 

The wee hours of the morning were peaceful, and the bus ride didn’t take as long as usual. Castiel slipped into the hospital quietly, grateful that no one stopped him.

 

On Sam’s floor, the nurse on duty greeted him with a quiet, “Hello, Mr. Collins.”

 

“Hello Becky – I know it’s after hours, but I…”

 

Becky cut him off. “No, no. It’s fine. Go right in.”

 

Castiel smiled at her. “Thanks.”

 

(If he had looked back, he would have seen Becky gazing adoringly after him.)

 

Sam lay silent and still. Fewer tubes and wires were connected to his body, which Castiel took as a good sign.

 

“Hi,” he said, taking Sam’s hand in his for a moment. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here in the middle of the night, huh?”

 

When Sam didn’t answer, Castiel let go of his hand and took the seat next to the bed. He carefully shrugged out of his coat and laid it across his lap.

 

“I’m not really sure why I’m here,” he said aloud. “I just don’t know what to do.” Castiel cleared his throat. “I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. I really came here to tell you that I didn’t mean for this to happen. I mean, if you were awake, I wouldn’t be in this mess – not that I’m blaming you. Oh God.” Castiel covered his face with his hands and breathed deeply. “Really. I’m not blaming you. Sorry.” He thought of Ellen and Bobby and their obvious devotion to each other and to Sam; he didn’t want to be the person to hurt them further, especially after all they’d been through. They reminded him of what he’d always wished for.

 

“When I was a kid,” he said aloud, “I always imagined what I’d be like or where I’d be or what I would have when I got older and it was normal stuff – house, family, things like that. I’m not complaining. Really. But my life is – well, it’s kind of lonely. Even though I have friends, I just… I haven’t really had anybody I could laugh with.” Castiel thought of watching _Christmas Vacation_ with Dean just a few hours ago and smiled. “Well, that’s not entirely true.  There is someone, now, but I don’t know how he feels.” He swallowed hard. “Do you believe in love at first sight, Sam? No, you’re probably too sensible for that. I doubt you’ve ever fallen in love with somebody whose middle name you didn’t even know either.”

 

As Sam lay silently, Castiel laughed sadly. “Have you ever been so lost that you spent the night confusing a man in a coma?”

 

\+ + + +

 

Bobby had woken early, as he always did. He’d eased out of bed without disturbing Ellen and carried his clothes downstairs, where he got dressed and put on a pot of coffee.

 

Normally, he’d take his coffee into his workshop and while away the hours until the rest of his household awoke. This morning, he couldn’t do that, so he’d sipped his steaming cup and observed the snow-covered and beautiful world through the kitchen window. He'd noticed the tall antennas blinking on top of the hospital, just a few blocks away, and decided to exhaust his early-morning energy by taking a walk.

 

He’d smiled at the young nurse on duty and headed for Sam’s room, only to find Castiel sitting by his bedside. Bobby had hesitated in the doorway, reluctant to intrude – and then he’d heard what Castiel was saying.

 

The loneliness in the young man’s voice made his heart hurt. But then he thought of how Ellen and Mary had latched onto Castiel as a sign that Sam was better, that he’d put his troubled past behind him, and if he were honest with himself, he had taken Castiel and the engagement as a sign that Sam had improved too. 

 

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his beard and realized that there was no way this could end without someone getting hurt. Judging by Castiel's slumped shoulders and the heartbroken quaver in his voice, the kid carried a lot of pain already. That realization decided his course of action for the moment: Rather than add to that pain, Bobby would leave quietly.  

 

Castiel never even knew he was there.

 

\+ + + +


	8. Chapter 8

 + + + +

 

Castiel had stayed with Sam for another hour or so, just sitting in companionable silence. By the time he had left, he felt better, as if saying all of his worries aloud had lessened their weight.

 

He was back home, on the couch eating cereal, and watching the morning news when he got a text from Ellen inviting him to lunch. Castiel hit “ignore” and tossed the phone on the coffee table. The newscaster hadn’t even finished her segment before he grabbed the phone and re-read the message. He drummed his fingers on the side of his bowl. Maybe this would be the perfect opportunity to set the record straight?

 

Before he could chicken out, he texted and accepted the invite. Mr. Whiskers jumped up on the couch and sniffed the edge of Castiel’s cereal bowl. He set the bowl on the table for kitty’s easier access and scratched him behind the ears. “I really hope this goes well. Sam’s family seems so nice – I don’t want to make things worse.”

 

Mr. Whiskers mewled in acknowledgement and jumped onto the tabletop. As he began lapping noisily at the remaining milk, Castiel said dryly, “Thanks for the input, but I can’t help feeling like you have ulterior motives.”

 

+

Ellen had chosen a Mexican restaurant near the hospital, and despite the snow, the lunch crowd was out in full force. Castiel nervously cradled his injured arm as he worked his way through, and even then he endured more than a little jostling before finding the Singers’ table in the back.

 

 “Castiel!,” Ellen exclaimed, standing to welcome him with a warm hug. “You made it.”

 

Castiel smiled, hoping his nervousness didn’t show as he gave her a one-armed hug. “Thanks for inviting me.” He pulled out the chair at the end of the table, but before he could sit down, a blonde-haired woman hugged him.

 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said with a watery smile.

 

“Um… You as well,” Castiel said, trying to figure out where she fit in this family. When he saw the angry man standing behind her, he had to resist the urge to back away.

 

The man extended a hand and actually smiled – sort of. “I’m John; this is my wife Mary,” he said, gesturing towards the woman who had reclaimed her seat at the other end of the table.

 

“Hello, I’m Castiel.” John nodded and took the chair across from his wife. Castiel noticed that he reached for Mary’s hand and squeezed it gently. Maybe there was more to the angry man than he’d given him credit for.

 

“Yeah, we know! You saved Sam’s life,” said an energetic blonde girl to his right. “I’m Jo.” Just then, the redheaded teen seated between Mary and Jo leaned forward and gave him a small wave. “I’m Charlie. Hi.”

 

Castiel returned the wave. “Hi.”

 

Bobby nodded at the chair. “Sit down, kid. It’s time to order.”

 

Castiel took his seat gratefully, and Ellen – seated to his left – passed him the chips. “They’re really good – still warm,” she said. “Have some.”

 

Castiel obediently took a chip and dipped it into the salsa bowl that Jo set in front of him. He felt awkward chewing and swallowing with everyone’s eyes on him. “It’s good,” he agreed.

 

“So, what’s everybody having?,” Bobby asked. Castiel could have hugged the man for directing everyone’s attention away from him. The next several minutes were spent on menu discussion. He perused the lunch specials and chose the burrito special with a side of rice and beans. Unfortunately, after the waitress brought their drinks and took their meal orders, Castiel found himself the center of attention once again.

 

“So, why don’t you tell us how you met Sam?,” Charlie asked, her tone sharp.

 

Castiel took a long sip of his water. This, he realized, was his opportunity to correct the entire misunderstanding. After all, he was in a public place, and they couldn’t get away with murder here. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak… and then he saw the hopeful look in Mary’s eyes, the warmth in Ellen’s.

 

He couldn’t do it – not here, not like this.

 

“Sam’s a regular at the Gas ‘N Sip.” Charlie’s expression made it clear that an abbreviated version wasn’t going to fly, so Castiel kept going: “He often came in for coffee and the free wifi late at night – and I tend to work the late shifts – and we got to talking one night.”

 

“And that was it?,” Jo asked, looking disappointed.

 

Castiel shrugged. “Sam was nice and polite, which I can’t say for all my customers. He stood out.”

 

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

 

Ellen cocked an eyebrow. “And how would you know? Sam hasn’t spoken to any of us in well over a year. Right?”

 

Charlie dropped her eyes. “Right,” she answered. Castiel didn’t miss the significant look that Bobby and Ellen exchanged, or the slip-up that suggested Charlie knew more than she was telling. Without raising her eyes, she asked, “But what about the other one?"

 

“The other one?,” he asked.

 

“The girl he met in the bar.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know…” Castiel faltered.

 

Jo interjected. “Do you mean Lilith? She was nearly as bad as Ruby.”

 

Ellen waved her hand dismissively. “Sam has a nice person now. That’s what matters.”

 

“Ruby’s the name of the female who attacked us,” Castiel commented. “I can attest she is, in fact, not-good.”

 

The entire family froze. Mary dropped her water, spilling it all over the table. A waitress rushed over and cleaned it up.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Castiel said to Ellen, who was staring at him wide-eyed. “Weren’t you told?”

 

“No, we weren’t,” Bobby answered for her. His face was nearly as dark as John’s. “Why don’t you fill us in?”

 

“Please?,” Mary asked.

 

John clasped Mary’s hand again. “Please,” he said. “We’d really like to know what happened.”

 

Jo and Charlie nodded, too, so Castiel told the story. He watched their faces carefully, and he saw their shock turn into outrage, anger, and sorrow. He realized that there was much more to the story of Sam and his family than he’d originally thought.

 

“Have they caught them?,” Jo asked.

 

“Not that I’ve heard,” Castiel answered. “But Officer Sands is very thorough – I expect she will track them down soon.”

 

“Good,” Bobby said. “And how’s your arm?”

 

“It’s fine,” he answered. Ellen gave him a “don’t lie to me” look. “It’s been painful,” he acknowledged. “But it’s not as bad today.”

 

“Thank you, Castiel,” John said gruffly. Castiel gave him a questioning look, and John added. “For saving Sam. Thank you.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Mary said. Their eyes were suspiciously bright, and Castiel suspected that tears and general awkwardness were imminent. Luckily, Jo rescued him:

 

“So did Sam know you were a freaking ninja warrior _before_ you rescued him?”

 

Castiel laughed. “I’m definitely _not_ a ninja warrior.”

 

“I don’t know, Cas,” Charlie said. “You looked pretty bad-ass on that video.”

 

“I haven’t seen it,” he admitted.

 

“Well, let’s rectify that right now,” Charlie said with a grin, pulling out her phone.

 

The arrival of their food interrupted the video replay, and everyone dug into their food. Casual conversation continued, and Castiel learned that Jo was Sam’s cousin, and Charlie his sister; he wanted to ask about their brother, but he felt like that was information a fiancé should already know. So, he stayed mum on that front.

 

By the time churros were served, Castiel was completely enamored with Jo and Charlie and their infectious energy. If he’d had siblings, he hoped they would’ve been like these two. Their insatiable curiosity, though, he could’ve done without.

 

“It must have been love at first sight,” Charlie said, studying Castiel. She snapped her fingers. “I know what! I bet he waxed on about saving the rainforest and you were floored by his devotion.” She grinned. “Did I get it right?”

 

Castiel laughed and offered the truth: “The first thing I noticed was how tall he is.” Everyone laughed. “And then I noticed his smile. I’d had a terrible day, and just a simple smile means so much sometimes.” He was saved from elaborating by the waitress dropping the check, which Bobby picked up.

 

As everyone filed towards the exit, Castiel was surprised to find his meal had been lumped in with everyone else’s. Ellen patted him on the back. “You’re one of ours, Castiel. Let us take care of you.”

 

Castiel’s eyes burned, and he ducked his head. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

 

When his phone buzzed, Castiel excused himself. It was Gabriel, asking him to come by the store to deal with paperwork. In the moment they talked, the post-lunch throng had separated him from the Singers, so he waved at them and called out his goodbyes. When they all waved and called out enthusiastically in return, something in Castiel’s chest burst with warmth.  He smiled the entirety of his walk to the bus stop.

 

By the time he reached it, though, his conscience was guiltily scratching despite the fact that he hadn’t actually claimed Sam as his fiancé. That now-familiar and very-unwelcome twist returned to his gut, and Castiel took a moment to pray that Sam woke soon. He wanted all of this settled as painlessly as possible.

 

+

 

Castiel felt an odd sense of displacement when he reached the Gas ‘N Sip’s parking lot and saw the exact spot where he and Sam had been attacked. He felt even odder when he entered the store. It was a busy afternoon, but Hael spared him a wave from behind the counter. Castiel was glad to see her working and hoped she was feeling more comfortable running the floor.

 

He walked through the “Employees Only” door and down the short hall to Gabriel’s office. He could hear his boss talking, but he didn’t recognize the answering voice.

 

He rapped lightly on the open door, and Gabriel exclaimed, “Ah, there he is! Come in and have a seat, Castiel.”

 

Castiel smiled at the stranger as he hesitantly took a seat.

 

“This is Rufus Turner,” Gabriel explained, gesturing to the older man. “He’s from headquarters.”

 

“Hello,” Rufus said, extending his left hand.

 

Castiel still didn’t have full mobility in his injured arm, so he attempted an awkward, weird shake with his right. Even more weirdly, Rufus seemed pleased by Castiel’s obvious compensation for his injury.

 

“You done?,” Gabriel asked, his voice cold.

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow – was Gabriel talking to him? Rufus chuckled and shrugged. “Had to check, Hornblower.”

 

“Does anyone actually fall for that?,” Gabriel asked, his tone still frosty.

 

“All the time – continuity errors always do people in,” Rufus answered. “Speaking of, Castiel, why don’t you tell me what happened the other night?”

 

Gabriel gave him an encouraging nod, and Castiel launched into the story, again keeping to the facts and leaving out the whole fairy tale misreading. When he finished, Gabriel leveled a narrow-eyed gaze on Rufus.

 

“So, what’s the verdict?”

 

Rufus had watched Castiel closely throughout his story, interjecting questions and asking for clarifications periodically. Some had required Castiel to explain the same part of the story multiple times, which he now realized had been on purpose.

 

“I’ve found no discrepancies; I’ll submit the report.”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Glad to hear it. And what about the special dispensations?”

 

Rufus pursed his mouth thoughtfully. “I’m willing to present all the documentation to the review board, but as to what _that_ verdict will be? Not my call.”

 

“Dare I ask for a good word?,” Gabriel asked.

 

“I might be persuaded,” Rufus acknowledged, cocking his head thoughtfully.

 

“Peach or pumpkin?”

 

“Both,” Rufus answered with a grin.

 

“Done,” Gabriel pronounced. The men shook hands on it.

 

Rufus flipped through the papers in his lap, extracting several. “Need you to sign these,” he said to Castiel. “And then your boss has to sign. I’ll serve as witness.”

 

Castiel skimmed over the documents and signed wherever Rufus pointed before handing them off to Gabriel. He trusted Gabriel to not let him sign anything he shouldn’t, but he really wished that he better understood what was going on.

 

As soon as Rufus left, Castiel asked, and Gabriel smiled smugly. “I am saving your ass, kid.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Let’s just say that if all of this goes the way I hope, you’ll be debt-free and going to school in the fall.”

 

Castiel stared at him. “How can that be?”

 

“Because, as my lawyer brother informed me, corporate corner-cutting can be faulted for enabling the situation that led to your injury and our paying customer’s. Raphael prepared some papers for me; I sent them to corporate; corporate got nervous and sent Rufus.”

 

“Did you know him already?”

 

“Oh, yeah. We go way back. We’re not besties or anything, but he’s a fair, if distrusting, guy.”

 

“Huh,” Castiel observed. He couldn’t help the spark of excitement at the mere suggestion that he might be able to pay off his debts _and_ go to school.

 

“I’m doing all I can to help you out, Cassie. Just like I promised your dad, and just like I promised you.”

 

“I know,” Castiel answered. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet – I’ve got some baking to do.” Gabriel smiled. “Now, tell me: How’s Sleeping Beauty today?”

 

“He should wake soon,” Castiel answered. “I… um… just had lunch with his family.”

 

“Castiel!”

 

“I know.” Castiel bit his lip. “I had talked with – uh – someone last night and felt a bit guilty afterwards.”

 

“Why would you feel – Oh. _Oh_.” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You like this someone don’t you?”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“Castiel, you sly dog. When did you meet?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “He came in here a few weeks ago, and we’ve kept in touch.” He didn’t want to share anything else so tried to redirect Gabriel’s interest back to the topic at hand. “ _Anyway_.”

 

“Right. Back to your story about cheating on the vegetable.”

 

“Oh my God, Gabriel, Sam is _not_ –”

 

“Just yanking your chain, Cassie. Finish your story.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his stomach. He didn’t look a bit sorry for his chain-yanking.

 

“I just – I thought I could straighten everything out and then I wouldn’t feel guilty about talking to De—someone.”

 

“But?”

 

“But. They were all so nice – even the angry man – and whatever caused the rift between them and Sam, it’s big. And it’s obvious how much they love him still…” Castiel trailed off.

 

“And?”

 

It took Castiel a minute to speak. “And it was nice. Being a part of their lives, even if just for a an hour or two.”

 

Gabriel brow creased, and he got up, walking around to take Rufus’s vacated seat.

 

“I forget, sometimes, how alone you are, Castiel. But… as much as you might enjoy feeling like a part of a family, how are you going to feel when the truth’s out, especially if everything ends badly?”

 

Castiel slumped. “I know.” He met Gabriel’s searching gaze. “But what do I do?”

 

Gabriel gently clapped him on the back. “You remember that you feel more alone than you actually are – I know it’s not the same as being _part of_ a family, Cassie, but you have a lot of people who care about you. Me and Kali included.”

 

Castiel shot him a look, and Gabriel grinned weakly. “Okay, me. But don’t take her indifference personally – Kali barely has any use for me most days. So long as our kids are safe, that woman could burn the world down without blinking.”

 

Castiel thought of Kali’s fierce temper and imperious attitude and chuckled. Gabriel wasn’t wrong.

 

Gabriel’s phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” Gabriel said, grinning. “It’ll be okay, Castiel.  Do me a favor, though?”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

“Remember that you’re _not_ cheating on Sam. Just like the hospital staff invented this grand romance, you’re inventing this grand betrayal – and you’re not the betraying type, Cassie. I think…” Gabriel paused, as if uncertain how to go on.

 

“What?”

 

Gabriel gave Castiel a sad smile. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’ve felt sad for so long that now you’re afraid of being happy? It sounds like Dee—”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Like Dean makes you happy. This fake-engagement with Sam doesn’t. Yet you’re trading a temporary closeness with Sam’s family for definite happiness with Dean.” Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not an expert with feelings and such, but I think there’s something there worth thinking about.”

 

Gabriel’s words made something click inside of Castiel, and he realized that his friend was right: He was trading a sense of family belonging that was temporary and not real for taking a chance with Dean… if Dean wanted to take a chance, that is.

 

He jumped up and hugged Gabriel, nearly knocking the shorter man over. “Hey, hey,” Gabriel said. “You okay?”

 

Castiel nodded against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

“Anytime – You’re the little brother I never knew I wanted. You can always come to me.”

 

Castiel’s eyes began to water. The phone began ringing again, and Gabriel patted Castiel on the back before breaking the hug. “Yep, Kali again,” Gabriel said, checking the screen. “I better take this or I’ll be exiled to the couch for a week. Keep me posted?”

 

Castiel answered with a mini-salute. He closed the door behind him, laughing softly as he heard Gabriel greet his wife with “Hello snookums. Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now…”

 

Someday, Castiel thought, maybe I’ll have what they have – but without the occasional violence and threats of murder.

 

\+ + + +

 

Sam slowly became aware of his surroundings – machines beeping, people talking. He didn’t know where he was, and he hurt all over. He wanted to open his eyes, to move, but he felt so heavy.

 

He lay there, anchored to the bed and tried to understand the conversations that were going on. A woman standing near Sam was excitedly telling a story: “And then his fiancé _saved_ him – can you believe it? And he has the dreamiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Fingers threaded through Sam’s hair. “Sam is such a lucky guy. I wish someone like Castiel loved me.”

 

“Becky – look at his monitor. Is he awake?”

 

The fingers left his hair, and Sam heard some shuffling around and buttons being pushed. “Get Dr. Nick,” the woman ordered.

 

Sam floated in and out of awareness as more people came into his room, and he heard someone say to call his family.

 

“His parents or Mr. Collins?,” someone asked.

 

“Both” was the answer. Sam was alert enough to feel a rush of panic, and his heart hammered in his chest.

 

“Sam, I’m Dr. Nick Lucius – but everyone calls me Dr. Nick. I need you to calm down, Sam. Take a deep breath.” A strong hand took Sam’s. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

 

Sam squeezed. “Good, good. Can you open your eyes?”

 

That was even harder. Immediately, a light shone in his eyes. “Okay, things look good, Sam. If you’re tired, get some sleep. You should wake up normally next time, okay?”

 

Sam couldn’t even acknowledge what the doctor said before slipping back into unconsciousness.

 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel caught a glimpse of a sandy-brown haired man exiting the store, and his heart caught in his throat. He wove through the crowded aisles and ran out into the parking lot. There, he saw a certain beautiful man walking towards a large truck with Winchester & Son stenciled across its side.

 

“Dean!,” he called out.

 

The man froze and turned around. His eyes found Cas’s, and a beatific smile lit up his face.

 

“Cas!”

 

Neither moved for a long minute as they stared at each other across the parking lot – until the driver waiting on the gas pump Dean had been using blew her horn impatiently.

 

Both jumped, and Dean bit his lip. _He looks nervous_ , Castiel thought. The realization relieved some of his uncertainty.

 

The driver blew her horn again, and Dean made a hand gesture that had Castiel laughing.

 

“Going my way?,” Dean called out.

 

Castiel grinned and crossed the lot. “Absolutely.”

 

“Well, get in before I get arrested.” He jerked his head towards the glaring driver. “If she blows that horn one more time…”

 

Castiel opened the door and climbed up into his seat. Dean smiled at him from the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. Neither said anything at first. Dean navigated onto the highway, and Castiel tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

 

Dean thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Um. I guess we should have a plan?”

 

“Have you eaten lunch?”

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“Yeah,” Castiel answered. “How’s your family?”

 

The smile dropped off Dean’s face. “I haven’t seen them yet – needed gas and came by here first. Hoped I’d run into you, but wasn’t sure.” He looks at Castiel’s outfit. “Not working today?”

 

“No. Just had to do some paperwork.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Dean was silent for a moment. “How about I give you a ride home, so I’ll know where you live?”

 

Castiel laughed, and Dean flushed. “Oh shit. I didn’t mean that in a creepy way.”

 

“I know,” Castiel assured him. “I’d appreciate a ride. You can meet Mr. Whiskers.”

 

“I’d like that,” Dean said. His green eyes sparkled with warmth, and something inside of Castiel fluttered.

 

“So this is your dad’s truck?”

 

“Yeah, for his business.”

 

“And that is?”

 

Dean huffed a laugh. “I guess I haven’t mentioned that, have I?” Castiel shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just not my favorite topic. He’s renowned for finding great antique deals through estate sales.”

 

“Is that what you do?”

 

Dean grunted. “Hardly. I’m just his delivery boy.” He put the truck into park. “Here we are,” he announced.

 

Dean got out of the cab, and Castiel followed suit. “Do I get a tour?,” Dean asked.

 

Castiel laughed. “Sure, but there’s not much to see.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Well, I want to see it anyway.” He stepped back to let Castiel go first up the shoveled drive. “After you.”

 

Castiel showed Dean the courtyard first, and they’d just entered the building when Metatron Jr. came strolling down the hall.

 

“So,” Metatron drawled out, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders and puffing his chest out. “This the dude you ditched me for?”

 

Dean froze. “Cas?”

 

“I did not ditch him,” Castiel promised. “Metatron, we’ve been over this: We’ve never dated, and we never will date.”

 

Metatron sneered at Dean. “I bet he can’t get front row Ice Capades tickets.”

 

“He wouldn’t want them,” Castiel retorted. He reached for Dean’s sleeve and was surprised when Dean turned his hand and slotted their fingers together. He smiled and led Dean towards the stairs. “Give my best to your mother,” he called out over his shoulder.

 

Castiel could hear Metatron muttering as they ascended the stairs.

 

“Friend of yours?,” Dean asked.

 

“Only a friend,” Castiel answered. “His mother owns this building, and she’s been very kind to me. Metatron… gets ideas sometimes.”

 

Deans squeezed his hand. “Well, who can blame him?”

 

Castiel blushed and squeezed back. Dean didn’t release Castiel’s hand until they got to the door. Castiel jumbled the key a bit in his nervousness and found himself grateful for the previous night’s midnight cleaning spree.

 

Still, when he opened the door, he felt a bit bashful, and he looked around his apartment with new eyes – noting its smallness, the shabbiness of his couch, the outdated kitchenette, the faded paint on the walls…

 

Dean’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “It’s great, Cas.”

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “No, really,” Dean answered. “I know you said it was small, and it is, but it’s yours.” Dean’s voice sounded almost wistful.

 

“Don’t you have your own place?,” Castiel asked, hanging his coat on the hanger behind the door.

 

Dean reddened as he slipped out of his coat and hung it beside Castiel’s. “I've got a room above dad’s business.” He shrugged. “I pay rent and all, but it doesn’t feel like mine.” Dean started towards the kitchenette. “Hey, mind if I get some water?”

 

“There are glasses in the dish rack,” Castiel said, allowing Dean his deflection. "Want some help?"

 

"Nah, I'll bring them over." Castiel took a seat on the couch, and when Dean carried over two glasses of cold tap water, he gratefully accepted one of them. 

 

They smiled shyly at one another and sipped at their water. When the cat emerged from his spot under the Christmas tree and tentatively approached, Dean asked, “And is this the famous Mr. Whiskers?"

 

“It is. If you hold out your hand, he’ll smell you and decide whether he likes you or not.”

 

Dean set his glass down and held his hand out, laughing as the cat touched his nose to Dean’s fingers. Mr. Whiskers made his decision quickly, rubbing his head on the underside of Dean’s palm.

 

“Your cat has good taste,” Dean said, scratching the kitty between his ears.

 

“Yes, he does.” This time, it was Dean’s turn to blush. He looked at Castiel, his wide green eyes catching the sunlight, and …. Castiel abruptly set his glass down and pressed forward, kissing Dean on the lips.

 

He pulled back, shocked at what he’d done. “Sorry. I just—”

 

The hand that had been petting Mr. Whiskers was suddenly cupping the back of Castiel’s head. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Dean said. His eyes searched Castiel’s, and then Dean’s lips were on his, and Castiel’s eyes closed. He lost himself to the softness of Dean’s lips, the feel of his scruff, the warm weight of his hands threading through Castiel’s hair and caressing his neck.

 

They drew apart, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. “I missed you,” Dean said, his breath ghosting across Castiel’s lips. “How does that make sense? I barely know you.”

 

“I don’t know, but I missed you too.”

 

Dean reached for Castiel again, his hand curling around Castiel’s injured arm. Castiel flinched from the pain.

 

“Cas? Cas! What’s wrong?”

 

“Arm,” Castiel muttered. Dean released his hold as if he’d been burned.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

Castiel couldn’t speak for a moment because of the pain. He smiled weakly at Dean. “I was injured the other day – it’s okay, but the stitches hurt.”

 

Dean frowned. “Stitches? You said you were in an accident, but you didn’t say you had to have stitches.”

 

“It’s not a big deal, Dean. Really.”

 

Dean cupped Castiel’s face with one hand, brushing his thumb along his cheek. Castiel couldn’t help leaning into the touch.

 

“I’m sorry, Cas – I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean didn’t look as if he believed him, so Castiel kissed his palm. “Really.”

 

They gazed at each other, and Castiel felt as if he could see the entirety of his existence reflected in Dean’s eyes. They both jerked when the shrill beeping of Dean’s phone interrupted the moment.

 

“I’m sorry, but I have to get that,” Dean said apologetically. Castiel watched as Dean retrieved his phone from the inside pocket of his coat.

 

Dean skimmed the message. “It’s a text from my aunt – Oh, shit. It’s about my brother. Look, Cas, I have to go, but – um – can we get together later? I’d really like to see you again.”

 

“I’d really like to see you again, too,” Castiel said, walking over to help Dean with his coat. “Go be with your family, and call me when you can.”

 

“I will,” Dean promised. “Take care of yourself, angel,” he murmured, brushing their lips together.

 

Dean brushed Castiel’s jaw with the back of his hand. “Nice peach fuzz, by the way.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Castiel blushed. “Shaving’s been difficult.”

 

“I can help you with that later, if you want. Looks good though.”

 

Castiel gaped, and Dean winked saucily. “See you later, Cas.”

 

Long after the door had closed, Castiel stood in a daze, the feeling of Dean's lips imprinted on his own. He hoped that he could hold onto this moment of happiness forever.

 

\+ + + +


	9. Chapter 9

\+ + + +

 

Bobby navigated the van into a parking space. Everyone quickly exited the vehicle and started walking across the snow-covered pavement towards the hospital. Mary’s eyes shone brightly; Charlie chattered to her parents and even John wore a smile. Ellen read the message in Bobby’s eyes, and she slackened her pace to match his.

 

“Jo,” she called out. Their daughter was a few feet ahead.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Walk with us,” Ellen said, reaching out a hand. Jo slowed and took her mother’s hand.

 

“You think he’s okay?,” Jo asked nervously.

 

“I think he’ll be fine,” Ellen assured her.

 

“I do too,” Bobby added.

 

The trio walked as slowly as they could, even letting the Winchesters ride the luckily crowded elevator without them. About fifteen minutes later, the elevator delivered the Singers to Sam’s floor, and they were surprised at what they didn’t hear: There was no happy laughter or excited conversation echoing from the room.

 

Instinctively, Ellen pulled Jo a bit behind her, and she and Bobby walked into the room first. She had no reason to think anything had gone wrong, but you never knew. She saw Sam lying in bed, seemingly in the same condition he had been earlier. Her brow furrowed, but Bobby asked the question before she could:

 

“I thought he was awake?”

 

“He was,” John said. Ellen startled; she hadn’t seen him leaning against the wall beside the door. “Doctor says he’s sleeping naturally now; when he wakes again, it should be for a longer period, and they expect he’ll be lucid.”

 

“Well, that’s good to know,” Ellen said, giving John an encouraging smile that faded as she looked over at Mary and Charlie’s crestfallen faces. Ellen hugged Jo tightly, and when her daughter nodded towards the silent tableau and arched an eyebrow at her mother, Ellen knew what she was asking. "Go on," Ellen answered. Jo grinned and headed directly for Charlie’s side.

 

“Any word from Dean?,” John asked.

 

“Not yet,” Ellen asked.

 

John snorted. “He sent me and Mary a couple of texts the other night, but you seem to be the only one he wants to talk to.” John grimaced. “Not sure why.”

 

Bobby’s hand closed around hers and squeezed, reminding her that, sometimes, she shouldn’t speak her mind. Instead, Ellen took a deep breath in and slowly released it.

 

“Since it looks like we’re going to be here for a while, I’m going to grab a coffee. Y’all want anything?”

 

John waved his refusal.

 

“I’m good, El,” Bobby said, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Thanks, though.”

 

Ellen had taken her time walking to the cafeteria and getting her coffee. She really didn’t want to walk back into the disappointed tension that had pervaded Sam’s room or deal with John and his cluelessness.

 

Lucky for her, dawdling paid off: As she took the long way back, she crossed paths with her missing nephew.

 

“Dean!,” Ellen exclaimed, returning his hug one-armed. “I didn’t expect you until later.”

 

Dean shrugged. “I was already in town. Parked the truck at the rental house and walked over.”

 

“No wonder your cheeks are pink from the cold.” She threaded her free arm through Dean’s proffered one and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

 

“How’s Sam?”

 

“He’s sleeping, but they expect him to wake at any time.” Ellen scrutinized Dean out of the corner of her eye. He had shadows under his eyes, and his face was drawn, but when he smiled, he _smiled_.

 

“What’s up with you?,” she asked. “What haven’t you told me?”

 

Dean blushed. “No-nothing,” he stammered.

 

“Nothing?,” Ellen asked, using the tone that _always_ made him confess to stealing the last slice of pie.

 

“Nothing,” he affirmed.

 

Ellen hmmmed and allowed him to change the conversation to the weather and the truck repairs and what his parents did and didn’t know about his delay. But she took note of the way his ears pinked, and the way his eyes sparkled, and she knew that something really good had happened in Dean’s life.

 

It was about damn time.

 

\+ + + +

 

After Dean left, Castiel had taken two of his pain pills and settled onto the couch for a nap. His dreams were filled with green eyes and strong hands, and when he woke at dusk, he was disappointed to find himself alone (except for the purring furball lying across his stomach).

 

He ate some leftover lasagna for dinner and was washing his dishes when someone knocked at the door. It was Mrs. Angelo.

 

“Castiel! Are you okay?”

 

“Um – yes? How are you?”

 

“I’m fine,” she answered, handing over a lidded Tupperware dish of food. “But you might want to call Mr. Hornblower – he’s been trying to reach you.”

 

“I’ll call him right now. Thank you for the food – I’ve been eating what you brought by the other day.”

 

“Good, good. This is a beef stew that I think you’ll enjoy. Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

 

“Okay. Thanks again.” Castiel returned Naomi’s cheery wave and went back into his apartment. He dug out his phone and realized it had died – again. Grumbling, he hooked it up to the charger and helped himself to a bowl of the still-warm stew.

 

He’d only eaten a couple of bites when the phone turned on. He was shocked to see how many messages he had, and an anxious feeling began churning in his gut. Castiel set aside his bowl and took his phone in hand, scrolling through quickly.

 

Hannah had called hours ago to let him know that Sam had woken up briefly. Ellen had texted and called several times, and Gabriel's calls picked up where Ellen's left off. Castiel decided to call his friend first, and deal with Sam and the Singers second. 

 

"Oh, thank God," Gabriel said in greeting.

 

"I'm God now?," Castiel asked wryly. 

 

Gabriel snorted. "Ellen's worrying over you like a mother hen, Cassie, and she got to me, too. Had me worried you'd been kidnapped or something, specially after Hael said she saw you getting into someone's truck... and whose truck was that, by the way?"

 

"Dean's." Castiel smiled as he felt the ghosting of Dean's fingers and lips on his skin. 

 

Gabriel cackled. "I  _knew_ it. And no worries, Cassie-nova, I didn't tell Ellen you're cheating on Sam." 

 

"I'm not cheating-- Gabriel, you're not helping," Castiel huffed. 

 

Gabriel's laughter ended abruptly, and his tone turned serious. "I'm just teasing you, Cas. You know that."

 

"Yeah, I do," Castiel admitted. He hated that his stomach was tightening in a knot at the thought of what Ellen and the rest of the Singers were going to say.

 

“You have to go to the hospital, Castiel, and get this straightened out once and for all.”

 

Castiel sighed. “I know. I just dread it.”

 

“Well, buck up. You can do this. You have to.” Gabriel hesitated before asking, “Want me to come with?”

 

Castiel smiled, even though his friend couldn’t see. “No, but thank you. Really.”

 

“Call me if you need me – and I want the scoop when it’s all said and done, especially about this Dean fellow. Capiche?”

 

“Capiche,” Castiel agreed.

 

+

 

A lengthy bus ride later, Castiel slowly navigated the icy sidewalk from the bus stop to the hospital. He kept reminding himself that if Sam was awake and coherent, then they could set the record straight. He still hated to hurt Ellen and Bobby, or any of the rest of the family for that matter, but when he thought of Dean, his trepidation faded. And, truly, Castiel wanted to be free of guilt and misunderstandings – he wanted to be free for Dean.

 

Still, his courage faltered when he stepped inside the building, and he decided that he needed a cup of coffee before he faced the Singers. He was in the cafeteria at the condiments counter, adding a couple of mini-creamers when he heard a familiar voice.

 

“Cas?”

 

Castiel turned, completely flabbergasted to see Dean, a cup of coffee in his own hand. At a loss for words, he simply held out a spare creamer. “No thanks,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I take it black, remember?”

 

“Oh, that’s right.” Castiel blushed with embarrassment. He should’ve remembered – he’d played that first encounter over and over in his mind until it was imprinted.

 

“Hey, it’s not a test,” Dean said gently, reaching for Castiel and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. I – I just…” Castiel stammered, finally getting out: “I came by to visit a friend. What are you doing here?”

 

Dean’s mouth twisted. “My brother’s here.” Castiel’s eyes widened, and Dean shook his head. “No, everything’s okay – or, it will be.”

 

Dean quickly steered the conversation to light-hearted small talk, but even then, they were bashful and blushing, and there was a closeness and familiarity between them that warmed Castiel’s heart. The way Dean’s eyes sparkled suggested he felt the same. All too soon for Castiel’s liking, they reached the elevator.

 

“What floor?,” Dean asked, finger poised.

 

“Three.”

 

“Really? Me too.” Dean pressed the button, and they rode up in companionable silence.

 

They came off the elevator together and came to a stop near Sam’s room. “This is me,” Dean said. He reached for Castiel’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Come by when you’re done with your visit? I’d like you to meet my family.”

 

Castiel stared at Dean uncomprehendingly. The closest room besides Sam’s was four feet away. What did Dean mean by “This is me”? Dean’s brow furrowed. “Cas? What’s the matter?”

 

“Dean!,” Charlie exclaimed from the doorway. “Stop hitting on Sam’s fiancé!” She smacked Dean’s arm, and he jerked his hand away from Castiel’s.

 

Dean’s face had gone white. “Cas? What’s going on?”

 

Castiel paled as he realized what was – inconceivably – happening. The warmth he’d been feeling fled, leaving hollowness in its wake. “Dean – I can explain—”

 

“Look who I found,” Charlie was announcing gleefully, oblivious to Dean and Castiel’s distress. Once she pulled Castiel into the room, she took his coffee and gave him a push towards the bed.

 

A chorus of cheerful greetings came from the others in the room, and Castiel nodded in turn automatically, even though his mind was focused on sussing out what had just happened. Dean was Sam’s brother – but _how_?

 

“Look who’s here,” Mary murmured to Sam, brushing the young man’s hair back from his eyes. Sam slowly turned his head, and though wan and sporting dark under-eye circles, he appeared alert and aware when he smiled at Castiel.

 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Sam said, extending his arm towards Castiel.

 

“Sam,” Castiel acknowledged, swallowing nervously. With everyone staring at him, he didn’t know what else to do _but_ step forward and clasp Sam’s reaching hand. “It’s good to see you awake. And, um, I can explain—”

 

“You don’t have to explain anything, hon. I’m just glad you’re here.” Sam lifted Castiel’s hand to his lips, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Castiel’s.

 

For a horrifying moment, Castiel forgot to breathe. Behind him, a cup crashed to the floor, and coffee splashed everywhere.

 

\+ + + +


	10. Chapter 10

\+ + +  +

Considering what he’d overheard earlier, Bobby found Sam kissing Castiel’s hand and murmuring endearments flabbergasting.

 

Though Castiel looked like he was about to faint, most everyone was gazing at the “couple” adoringly – well, except for John, and he simply wasn’t one to gaze or adore. Dean, however… Dean, already ghostly pale and eyes wide as saucers, dropped his coffee and abruptly stalked from the room. Bobby’s eyes narrowed: Something big was going on here, and while he didn’t know what it was _yet_ , he sure as hell would. So would Ellen, judging by the pointed look she sent his way before taking off after Dean.

 

When Sam deployed his lethal puppy dog eyes, Bobby wasn’t surprised that Castiel went along with whatever this deception was instead of setting the record straight. Castiel’s gullibility secured his inclusion in Bobby’s muttered exclamation of “Idjits,” though.

 

Bobby got to his feet with every intention of doing so. Before he could get a word out, though, Mary was inviting Castiel over. “Castiel, we didn’t get to celebrate Christmas. It’d be nice if you could join us for an early dinner tomorrow?”

 

Castiel cast his eyes nervously around the room, and Bobby didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on the spilled coffee and the empty doorway. “I-I’d love to, but I can’t,” the young man stammered out.

 

Suddenly, John stepped forward. “You can and you will,” he ordered, his tone disallowing any argument. “We’ll be in touch.”

 

Castiel stared like a deer caught in the headlights but managed to give a quasi-nod. Bobby could tell the poor kid was about to fall apart, and he was baffled that no one else seemed to notice. Luckily for Castiel, Nurse Hannah came into the room and announced that visiting hours were over. Bobby caught the sympathetic look she gave Castiel, and he wondered what the nurse knew that the rest of them didn’t.

 

Bobby wanted to linger, to talk to Sam and to Castiel, but Castiel made a break for it, though Charlie and Jo were on his heels. Mary and John were telling Sam goodnight when Ellen returned, her eyes tight with worry.

 

“What happened?,” Bobby asked her, keeping his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

 

Ellen answered just as quietly. “I don’t know – There’s no sign of him. And he walked here, so who knows where he is.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Castiel?”

 

“He split.”

 

“Well that’s not suspicious at all,” Ellen muttered. “What _is_ going on?”

 

“Beats me,” Bobby said. He considered, though, the little comments Dean had been making the past month or so, and a possible scenario began to form in his mind. “El, what was the name of Dean’s new friend – you know, the one he met on a road trip and who fed him pie?”

 

Ellen’s pursed her lips in thought. “Did he ever give us a name?”

 

“I could’ve sworn he did,” Bobby said. “Wasn’t it something like ‘Cole’? Or Cal?”

 

Ellen’s eyes grew wide, and she grabbed Bobby’s sleeve. “Oh no. I remember now – he _did_ slip one day and said something like, ‘That’s what Cas said.’”

 

“Well, shit,” Bobby said. His stomach twisted, and Ellen looked pretty green around the gills, too.

 

“He was so happy when he got here,” she murmured, leaning against Bobby’s chest.

 

He moved his hand in comforting circles on her back. “We’ll find Dean, and we’ll sort this out. I got more to tell you later, okay?”

 

She sniffled. “Okay.”

 

As he held Ellen, Bobby watched Sam interacting with Mary and John. The boy seemed off, and Bobby couldn’t figure out what Sam was up to, let alone why he’d dragged Castiel, clearly without permission, into the scheme. Bobby did know one thing though: He wasn’t about to let this tomfoolery slide.

 

\+ + + +

 

Later, Castiel would wonder how he’d not passed out from shock. When Sam… did what he did… Castiel had suddenly realized how much Mary’s eyes looked like Dean’s and how hints of Mary and John were reflected in Sam’s features.

 

Castiel had misunderstood so much. When Sam clasped his hand and behaved as if they were engaged, Castiel had wanted to fall through the floor. When Dean dropped his coffee and bolted from the room, Castiel wanted to fling himself into a hole, maybe even a hellmouth.

 

Though dazed, he tried to interact as normally as possible, but he was eternally grateful to Hannah for coming in and shutting down visiting hours. Castiel took the opportunity to leave, though Charlie and Jo caught up with him at the elevator. They were practically vibrating with excitement now that Sam was finally awake and Dean had arrived.

 

 _Why did they never mention Dean’s name before_ , Castiel wondered, thinking back through their conversations and coming up empty. They hadn’t spoken much about Dean directly, and when they had, they’d referred to him as “my oldest brother,” or “my cousin,” or even “squirrel.” He made a mental note to ask about the “squirrel” nickname… if Dean ever spoke to him again.

 

“Where’d Dean go, anyway?,” Jo asked, looking up and down the hallway.

 

“Yeah, I really wanted you to meet him, Cas,” Charlie said. “I mean, I know he was hitting on you, but he’s a really nice guy normally.”

 

“He’s one of the nicest guys I know,” Castiel retorted – and even to his ears, his tone sounded defensive.

 

Charlie cocked an eyebrow in surprise at his outburst, and Castiel studiously avoided her searching gaze. “I – um – have to go. Tell everyone I said goodbye?,” he said.

 

“Sure, Cas,” Charlie said. “But the elevator’s not here yet.”

 

“I’ll take the stairs.”

 

Without a backward glance, not even when he heard the teens’ exclamations of surprise at his leaving, Castiel ran down the stairs. He prayed that he could catch a bus before the family came out and spotted him, and when he saw the evening express line lingering at the curb, he took off in a run, gratefully boarding. The doors immediately snicked shut behind him, and he slumped into the closest empty bench.

 

He leaned his head against the cold window and took several deep breaths. When he felt somewhat calm again, he pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen for several minutes before he got up the nerve to text Dean: “Can we talk? Please?”

 

No response came – not in a minute, or five, or thirty. His screen remained dark as he walked from the bus stop to his apartment and as he walked up the dark passageway, a heaviness came over Castiel that rendered him exhausted and heartsick.

 

When he entered the apartment, he couldn’t even look at the couch. Just a few hours earlier, he had felt so happy and hopeful, and now it was all ruined, and he didn’t even know why. _Why_ would Sam act like they were engaged? Was his memory affected? But Sam seemed to know who everyone else was and what was happening – None of it made any sense, and Castiel realized that he should have said something immediately. He also realized that he had gone along with it because anything else would have revealed the deception he’d already engaged in.

 

Castiel had lied, and even if his intentions had been good to start, now he had hurt Dean, and he doubted Dean would forgive him. Castiel wondered if it was possible to physically feel your heart breaking because his was doing a good imitation of it. Mr. Whiskers picked up on his distress and wove around his feet.

 

“Hey kitty,” Castiel murmured. He fed and watered the cat. Castiel felt numb and heavy, and he quickly shucked off his clothes, took his nightly dose of medicine, and crawled into bed. He kept one hand on his phone, staring at the blank screen, until he finally fell into a fitful sleep. When morning came, he didn’t bother getting up.

 

Around midday, his phone chirped with a message, and Castiel’s heart pounded over the possibility that it might be Dean. But it was Ellen, messaging him instructions to be at the rental house by 4 pm and giving directions. Castiel grimaced, tossed the phone aside, and burrowed back under the covers.  

 

By 2 pm, Mr. Whiskers was sitting on his stomach and swatting at his face. Castiel finally succumbed and roused enough to feed the cat. He poured a bowl of cereal with milk and settled on the floor next to the chomping kitty. Though Castiel managed to eat a few bites, he just wasn’t hungry, and when Mr. Whiskers sniffed his bowl, Castiel gave it to him. As the cat lapped noisily, Castiel kept thinking of the dinner invitation, but he didn’t think he could face Dean, let alone the rest of the family, no matter how badly he wanted an opportunity to explain. He decided that his best course of action was to crawl back into bed.

 

Around three o’clock, someone knocked loudly at the door. Castiel reluctantly wrapped an afghan around his bare torso and answered. He was surprised to see Bobby standing there, disgruntled and awkward.

 

Bobby cleared his throat. “C’mon kid. I’ve been instructed to bring you even if I have to haul you over my shoulder.”

 

“But I’m not ready,” Castiel protested.

 

Bobby snorted. “So, Ellen was right. You _weren’t_ coming.”

 

Castiel dropped his eyes and didn’t answer. Bobby pushed past him and entered the apartment. “Get ready. I’ll wait.”

 

In the face of Bobby’s “no excuses” tone, Castiel complied. He pulled on jeans and a button-up shirt. Instead of his hard-to-lace-up boots, he chose to wear faux-leather slip-ons. When he tossed his dirty pajamas into the hamper, he took a moment to spin the globe lamp that his dad had loved so much. He thought mournfully of his dad and how much he missed him.

 

When he came out of the bedroom, he stared at the sight before him: Bobby was in the floor, playing with Mr. Whiskers.

 

“I – um – I think I’m ready, sir,” he said.

 

Bobby clambered stiffly to his feet. “Don’t ‘sir’ me, boy. And put on a coat.”

 

\+ + + +

 

When Castiel answered the door, Bobby couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. The kid looked miserably downtrodden – heartbroken, even. It was the exact same expression that had been on Dean’s face that morning.

 

Dean had been nowhere to be found after the coffee-spilling incident, so the family had gone on home without him. Ellen had smoothed over his abrupt exit with a comment or two about how dead on his feet the boy had looked. “I bet he just had to lie down,” she assured Mary.

 

Ellen had surreptitiously performed a sweep of the house and found Dean in the small bedroom across from Charlie and Jo. According to her, Dean was sound asleep, huddled under a mound of blankets in the twin bed.

 

 _More like passed out_ , Bobby had suspected, betting that there was an empty bottle of jack clutched in Dean’s hand under that mound of blankets. He’d wisely kept that insight to himself at the time.

 

After everyone else had gone to sleep, he and Ellen had sat up talking through what they each knew: Charlie knew too much about Sam to have been out of touch with him; Castiel and Sam weren’t really engaged, but Sam was pretending they were, much to Castiel’s dismay; and “Castiel” was Dean’s new friend “Cas,” who was obviously much more than a friend.

 

“But I don’t understand,” Ellen had said. “Why didn’t Dean say anything before last night?”

 

Bobby had thought back over the afternoon’s events: Officer Sands had shown up right after Sam had woken up, insisting on a brief interview. None of the family had been allowed in the room, but Bobby had watched through the window, noting her furrowed brow and Sam’s nervous glances around the room. When she’d left, everyone had been so glad to see the boy awake that no one pressed him about any details surrounding his assault.

 

Bobby had begun to wonder if that had been a mistake. He’d recalled the chain of events after that aloud: “Well, when the two of you came in, John immediately started sniping at him for being late, and then you squashed that.”

 

“Damn right I did,” Ellen had muttered.

 

“I took John with me, and the girls tagged along so Dean could sit with Sam for a while. Where were you and Mary?”

 

“We went out in the hall – figured that Dean would need a few minutes alone. You know how he hates to be emotional in front of people.”

 

Bobby had snorted. “Oh yeah, I know.” He’d thought back to when Dean and Sam were kids, and Dean had fallen on the playground and broken his arm. He’d refused to cry in front of anyone; he’d told Bobby, “Dad said big boys don’t cry. And I’m a big boy. Sam’s the baby.” Dean had barely been eight years old at the time, and Bobby had wiped back tears at the child’s words. Adult Dean had held onto John’s training far too much for his own good, and Bobby had no doubt that Dean was doing all he could to repress his upset.

 

Bobby had twisted his mouth in contemplation. “Well, and then when we came back, he was slipping down the back stairwell –“

 

“Yeah, he’d come out of the room with red-rimmed eyes and said he needed some air.”

 

“—and next we saw him, he was with Castiel.”

 

“He was so happy, Bobby,” Ellen had said sadly. “He wouldn’t admit to anything, of course, but it showed in his eyes… and if we can’t fix this?”

 

Bobby had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to lie down on his chest. “I know, El,” he’d said. “We’ll fix it. I just can’t figure out why Sam pretended – or knew to pretend – that Castiel is his fiancée. How did he even know to do that?”

 

Ellen had sleepily murmured something unintelligible, and Bobby'd tenderly carded a hand through her hair until she fell completely asleep. He’d remained awake, however, and continued to puzzle out the missing details. Sometime in the wee hours, Bobby had realized that when Sam had woken the first time, he might have heard someone talking about Castiel and their epic romance. (There’d been too many starry-eyed nurses cooing over Sam and Castiel’s grand romance not to think they didn’t talk about it around Sleeping Beauty himself.) But that still didn’t explain _why_.

 

Even now, as Bobby surveyed Castiel’s small apartment, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this. Somehow, Castiel and Dean were connected; Bobby knew he wasn’t imagining the identical looks of devastation both were wearing today. (Dean had come to brunch with such a grim expression that even John called him out on it. That hadn’t gone over well _at all_.)

 

As Bobby stood there ruminating, a hesitant cat approached, sniffing the air. Bobby held out his hand and, in seconds, had a furball rubbing all over him. Bobby obligingly sat down in the floor, ignoring his aching joints, and used the string from his jacket to play with the cat. He missed having cats, but Ellen was allergic, so that was the end of that.

 

It took a few seconds for Bobby to realize that Castiel was now dressed and staring at him, completely slack-jawed.

 

“I – um – I think I’m ready, sir,” he said, his blue eyes wide with surprise.

 

Bobby cleared his throat and got to his feet, a little less graciously than he’d have preferred. “Don’t ‘sir’ me, boy. And put on a coat.”

 

Castiel quickly obeyed, and when Bobby saw that the kid was still having trouble with his arm, he quietly grabbed the coat and helped him get it on.

 

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly.

 

“Don’t mention it. Now, let’s go because if we’re late, Ellen will have our hides.” Bobby patted Castiel on the back reassuringly. Bobby was usually a pretty good judge of character, and he had a good feeling about Castiel. He really hoped he wasn’t wrong.

 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel was surprised to see that Bobby drove a church van; the man didn’t seem that religious. The ride was quiet, and Castiel itched to turn on the radio, but he didn’t want to seem rude – after all, driver picks the music. So, he sat silent, watching familiar scenery flash by, and tried to ignore his stomach twisting with nervousness.

 

Bobby’s voice startled him. “Did you know that I’m Sam and Dean’s godfather?”

 

“Um… no,” Castiel paused. “I thought you had to be catholic for that?”

 

“Eh. John fudged it over. Being a godfather is very important to me. Means that family don’t end with blood.” He gave Castiel a sidelong glance. “It’s good to have family this time of year.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Castiel said quietly, thinking of his father.

 

“What about you? You haven’t told us much about yourself.”

 

“I’m alone,” he said, staring out the passenger window. “My mom died when I was a kid, and then dad got sick when I was in college. I quit school and started working.” He swallowed hard but couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice. “Then dad decided he was done with treatments, and that was it.”

 

Castiel could feel Bobby looking at him, but he refused to look away from the window. After a long moment, Bobby cleared his throat.

 

“It’s hard to watch someone you love die. My first wife died of cancer – John got me through.”

 

Castiel turned to look at him then, but Bobby’s eyes were on the road. “You’ve been good friends a long time, then?”

 

“Yeah, we have,” Bobby answered, flipping on the turn signal. Bobby pulled into the driveway and parked. He had his key on the ignition when he added, “I’d never let anyone hurt them.”

 

Castiel heard the warning in his voice, and he answered truthfully, “Neither would I.”

 

Bobby regarded him evenly. “I believe you wouldn’t.” He turned off the van and nodded towards the house, where Jo and Charlie were clearly watching from a window. “We’d better get in before they come and drag you in.”

 

Castiel glanced nervously at the house, again questioning the wisdom of being here. “I – um – I’m not sure I should…” He took a deep breath and tried again: “I really should have said something sooner, Mr. Singer. But I just don’t think I should be here.”

 

“It’s Bobby, and I know that you should.” Castiel didn’t believe him, and it must have shown on his face. Bobby added, “I know more than you think I do, kid, and it’ll be okay. Have a little faith.”

 

“Faith?”

 

“Yeah, faith. If you don’t have faith in Dean, how can you expect him to have faith in you?”

 

Castiel started. “Dean?”

 

Bobby rolled his eyes and muttered “Idgit” under his breath before replying. “Yes, Dean – the one who nearly fainted yesterday when Sam pretended the two of you were engaged?”

 

“Sam pretended?”

 

“What, you telling me you _are_ engaged?”

 

“No, no,” Castiel said. He felt immense relief that _someone_ finally knew the truth. “I was worried something was wrong with his memory – I wanted to say something but—”

 

Bobby cut him off. “But you were afraid to? I get it. We’re a rowdy bunch and John can be terrifying…” He paused. “But just go with the flow in there, okay? We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

 

Before anything else could be said, Charlie and Jo began gleefully smacking Castiel’s window with the palms of their hands. “Told ya,” Bobby said, waving at his daughter and niece.

 

Castiel, stunned by the last few minutes, didn’t even realize Bobby had unlocked the doors until Jo yanked his open. “Come on in – it’s freezing out here,” she exclaimed.

 

Jo and Charlie escorted him into the house, and Castiel tried to listen to their happy chatter, but his mind was elsewhere. He managed to greet Mary and Ellen, who each hugged him warmly and nod at John, who was sitting at the table peeling potatoes. He was both grateful and disappointed that Dean was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“May I help?,” he asked Ellen, nodding at the busy preparations all of the adults were involved in. Even Bobby had come in and directly checked something cooking on the stove.

 

“No,” Jo and Charlie answered.

 

Ellen arched an eyebrow at them. “So you two have already devised Castiel’s schedule?”

 

The teens looked at each other and shrugged. “Yes,” Charlie answered. “If that’s okay with Castiel?”

 

“What do you think, Castiel?,” Ellen asked. “Do you mind going along with whatever these two have cooked up for you?”

 

Castiel couldn’t help smiling at the energy the two girls exuded. “I don’t mind at all,” he said.

 

“Then come on,” Jo said, pulling at his uninjured arm. Within seconds, Castiel in the living room with a game controller in his hand.

 

“What’s this for?,” he asked. Castiel hadn’t had much occasion to play video games, particularly over the past few years.

 

“Mario Kart!,” Charlie answered gleefully. “Can you believe the owners have a Nintendo 64? It’s so old-school!”

 

Castiel smiled sheepishly. “I’ve never played.”

 

“O. M. G.,” Jo spelled out incredulously. “Well, you’re playing now. Boot’er up, Charlie.”

 

Though the girls teased him mercilessly for picking the green dragon as his avatar, Castiel picked up the basics quickly. After a few minutes, he broached the question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

 

“Where’s your brother?”

 

Charlie grimaced. “Dean’s been sick all day. I think he finally went out for a while.”

 

“Sick?” Castiel felt a flare of alarm – was Dean sick because of him? The very idea made his heart hurt, and all Castiel wanted was to explain - to try to explain, anyway - what had happened. 

 

“He’s been on the road for days,” Jo explained, unaware that Castiel already knew this. “Mom said he was exhausted – Woah, watch where you’re going!” She elbowed Castiel. “You nearly ran off the road.”

 

Castiel bit his lip and steered his car back onto the highway. It took all of Castiel’s concentration to focus on the game and not let Jo or Charlie pick up on his distress.

 

\+ + + +


	11. Chapter 11

 + + + +

 

Ellen was relieved to hear Castiel laughing with Jo and Charlie. The weariness in his posture and the wariness in his eyes when he’d first entered the kitchen had alarmed her. His countenance was an all-too distressing reminder of Dean’s earlier that day:

 

After John and Dean’s verbal tussle at brunch, tensions had run high and ended with Dean pleading a migraine and going back to bed. Ellen had done her part to defuse the situation by sending Mary and John to the hospital to visit with Sam, while Bobby and the girls were dispatched to the grocery store to stock up for the evening’s festivities.

 

She’d quietly busied herself in the kitchen and waited. Sure enough, after a short time, a still-pajama-clad Dean had slunk into the room. “Everyone gone?”

 

“Your parents are at the hospital, and the rest of the crew is grocery shopping.” Ellen had checked her watch. “We should have at least an hour before anyone gets back. How about we have coffee and chat?” She’d gestured at the table, where she’d already set out two coffee cups and some store-bought pastries.

 

Without waiting for Dean’s response, Ellen had grabbed the coffee pot and filled their mugs to the brim. She’d then taken the chair beside Dean and watched him tentatively take a sip from his mug. She’d noted that the spark he’d had in his eyes the evening before was gone. With his mussed hair and drawn face, he was a pitiful sight.

 

Ellen had allowed the silence to linger for several minutes before asking, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

 

Dean had huffed a brittle laugh. “Not really.”

 

Ellen had pursed her lips. “Well, let me take a stab at things: Castiel is your new friend ‘Cas.’” Dean had startled, nearly spilling his coffee. Ellen had nodded satisfactorily. “Score one for me, I take it?”

 

“Uh. Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Okay. Let me see… you were so upset by what happened yesterday that you ran.” Dean had flinched, and though Ellen’s heart hurt at that, she’d soldiered on. “And you haven’t talked to Castiel or to your brother, and it’s killing you. How am I doing so far, Dean?”

 

He’d rolled his eyes in answer.

 

“Did Castiel ever say anything about Sam?,” she’d asked. “How did he not know that you were brothers?”

 

“He never mentioned him by name,” Dean had answered ruefully. “Sam must’ve been one of the college kids he’d met at the store.”

 

“And about the two of you being brothers?”

 

Dean had sighed and pushed his now half-empty cup away. “I didn’t want to talk about family stuff with Cas, so I didn’t. I never used names, never gave details…” He had trailed off, eyes fixed on a distant point. “I was an idiot.”

 

Ellen had pursed her lips and asked her next question with the intent of getting Dean focused on the crux of the matter: “So even though you have a bond with Castiel, you honestly think that Castiel cheated on Sam with you? Or, rather, cheated on you with Sam?”

 

Dean had cleared his throat. “I – I don’t want to. But you heard Sam.” He dropped his eyes. “You saw Cas.”

 

“I did see him, and Castiel looked horrified to me.”

 

Dean had jerked his gaze back to hers. “What?”

 

“Horrified,” Ellen had repeated. She’d leaned back in her chair and thrummed her fingers on the table. “I didn’t see it at first, but Bobby and I talked about it last night – and we realized that this is multiple layers of screwed up.”

 

Dean had snorted. “You’re telling me. Wait, so if Cas _isn’t_ with Sam, how in the hell did everyone come to think he was?”

 

“Castiel is the one who saved Sam – and he was stabbed in the process.”

 

Dean had smacked the tabletop with his palms. “ _That’s_ how he hurt his arm? I’m going to kill him.”

 

This time, Ellen had rolled her eyes. “Sure you will,” she’d said dryly. “Only if you can kiss him to death,” she’d muttered under her breath, shrugging her shoulders innocently when Dean had glared at her.

 

“Let’s just say that Bobby and I compared notes, and there’s a lot that’s missing from this story.” She’d paused a moment and then unfolded the day’s newspaper and handed it to Dean. “There’s also this.”

 

Dean had stared at the local section’s front page in shock. Bobby had bought the newspaper on his early morning walk, and Ellen had hidden it before anyone else saw.

 

“I – um – I need to talk to him.”

 

“To Castiel?”

 

“To Sam. I need to know what the hell’s going on and why.”

 

Ellen had been glad to see the life coming back into Dean’s eyes. She’d reached out a hand, closing her fingers warmly over Dean’s when he took it. “One more thing?”

 

Dean had raised his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“You need to figure out _your_ life, honey – you’re miserable running these pick-ups and deliveries for your dad.”

 

“Yeah, but if I leave, it’s just Winchester… it’s already bad enough that he’s only got me to help.”

 

Ellen had squeezed his hand. “Stop that, Dean. Your dad and you – I know you love each other, but the two of you can’t communicate for shit, you know that?”

 

Dean had sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to his business, but if it’s not _your_ business, if you want to do more with your life, then do it. Whatever happened to your photography plans?”

 

Dean had shrugged. “I’ve got my equipment still, but it just didn’t pan out – except for doing shots of Dad’s inventory for the website.”

 

Ellen had harrumphed. “And I bet John didn’t pay you for that either, did he?”

 

“No.” Dean had sighed. “He actually made a crack about how it was good to finally see my camera being useful.”

 

Ellen had to take a deep breath before she responded to that tidbit. When she finally did speak, she’d settled for saying, “You do what’s best for you, Dean. I want to see you happy.”

 

He’d smiled at her, and for a moment, she’d been reminded of the tow-headed youngster who’d once wheedled her into making an apple pie at midnight. The sight had warmed her heart.

 

Dean had leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Ellen. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“Oh, you,” she’d said, patting his cheek. She’d squeezed his hand once more. “We’ll get this all figured out, Dean. You just have to have faith.”

 

“Faith?”

 

“Yes, Dean. Faith. Faith in yourself and in Cas.” She’d refilled his cup and hers and settled back into the chair. “Is he worth that much?”

 

Dean had huffed a laugh. “Oh yeah. That and more.”

 

“Then we’ve got some investigating to do, don’t you think?” They’d spent the next several minutes comparing notes and talking plans. Dean had agreed that something fishy was going on and that they needed all the facts before opening old wounds within the family.

 

“Dad’s gonna go ballistic,” Dean had groaned.

 

“John needs to deal with the reality – and maybe it’s not as bad as we’re afraid of. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for why Ruby knew where Sam was.” Ellen had winced even as the words came out of her mouth, knowing that there was little chance of ever getting the full story. A glance at Dean had told her that he thought the same.

 

“Well, I’m going to find out everything I can,” he’d said. “I’m gonna shower and change, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

“By dinnertime? Castiel will be here.”

 

“I – um. I don’t know if he’ll come. I doubt he wants to see me.” Dean had cleared his throat awkwardly. “I didn’t return his message last night – He, um. He wanted to talk about what happened at the hospital.”

 

“So why don’t you get in touch with him now?”

 

“And say what?” Dean had shaken his head. “No. I need to figure out what’s going on with Sam first. Then I’ll talk to Castiel.”

 

Dean had left the house hours ago, and Ellen hadn’t heard a word yet. She wondered if he’d talked with Sam yet and if….

 

Bobby dipping a finger into the corn pudding she was stirring interrupted her musings. Ellen swatted his arm and warned, “Your hand had better be clean!”

 

Bobby sucked the mixture off his finger. “Mmmm.” He grinned saucily. “Them’s good eats, honeybear.”

 

Ellen rolled her eyes but couldn’t help chuckling at “honeybear.” “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“And yet you love me. Says something about your taste, don’t it?” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “So, what’s the plan?,” he asked quietly. “Any developments?”

 

For John and Mary’s benefit, Ellen raised her voice a bit. “Oh, dinner should be ready by 5 – the turkey put us a bit behind. You want to help me find some decorations? The realtor said there should be some in the garage.”

 

“Sure.” Bobby retrieved her coat from the rack while she finished assembling the pudding and slid it into the oven.

 

“We’ll be back in a few,” Ellen said to the Winchesters. Mary smiled and nodded and kept on rolling out the dough for homemade biscuits. John, engrossed in one of his sports podcasts, continued peeling potatoes and didn’t even notice their departure.

 

Bobby shut the backdoor and, in the privacy of the frozen backyard, shared, “You were right. He wasn’t planning on coming.”

 

“Can’t say I blame him.”

 

Bobby snorted. He began kicking snowdrifts away from the garage doors. “So what are we going to do now?”

 

“About Cas and Dean? We wait,” Ellen said, grabbing the door handle and helping Bobby wrestle it open. “Until Dean gets back, there’s nothing we can do anyway.” She surveyed the garage interior – a mess of boxes and plastic containers. “For now, we’re going to grab that box,” she said, pointing to a big box marked XMAS in the corner, “and we’re going to decorate.”

 

Bobby gave her a mock salute. “Aye, aye captain.”

 

Ellen whacked him on the seat of his jeans. “Watch yourself, matey. I’ll make you swab the decks.”

 

Bobby looked back and waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll swab your deck anytime, Ellen Harvelle Singer.”

 

Ellen blushed so hard that her cheeks burned. Bobby cackled loudly as he retrieved the box.

 

Choosing the decorations may or may not have taken them a few minutes longer than it should have. When they came back into the house, their arms full of garland and lights, neither Mary nor John noticed the faint beard burn on Ellen’s neck or Bobby’s un-tucked shirt.

 

For once, Ellen murmured a prayer of thanks for the Winchesters’ ability to be completely oblivious.

 

\+ + + +

 

Sam stared at the ceiling, counting the holes in the tile directly overhead; he desperately wanted to occupy his mind.

 

He’d gotten up to two hundred when his mind wandered once more to his family.

 

His parents’ daily visit had been perfectly pleasant. Mary had plumped his pillow, and John had gotten him some juice. They’d reminisced about when Sam was a kid, retelling the stories that they used to share and laugh over at family gatherings.

 

Sam swallowed hard, and the monitors began beeping as his chest tightened again. He hadn’t seen John or Mary in over a year, but no one talked about that. Neither had mentioned his alias or his past… _difficulties_. Instead, his parents had been just plain nice.

 

“Sam?,” a young nurse stood at the door. “All okay in here?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam answered, watching as she checked the monitors. “Just nervous, I guess.”

 

“Hmmm. That dreamy man of yours coming by today?,” she asked, interrupting her inventory to flash him a grin. Her nametag read “Becky Rosen,” and Sam had a memory of her gushing about Castiel when he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness.

 

The thought of Castiel made Sam feel sick, though. “Uh, maybe,” he managed to croak out.

 

“Good,” she said brightly, adjusting his pillow and blankets. She checked his pulse and listened to his breathing, too. Sam endured the attention and even remembered to thank her when she was done.

 

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Try to relax, though. Dr. Nick won’t be happy about those blood pressure spikes.”

 

Sam nodded and shut his eyes, hoping she would leave now. He just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, as soon as he’d sighed with relief at getting his wish, Becky came rushing back into the room.

 

“Oh, Sam – I almost forgot!” Becky pulled a folded newspaper page from her pocket and handed it to him. “I thought you might want this.”

 

Sam, puzzled, took the page. “Um. Thanks?”

 

“See you tomorrow!” And with a cheery wave, Nurse Becky was gone. After the door snicked firmly shut behind her, Sam carefully unfolded the page, and he immediately understood why Becky had saved it for him.

 

As he read, the tightness in his chest returned: The reporter, Garth Fitzgerald IV, had taken a features angle, interviewing Castiel’s boss and coworkers and crafting a powerful narrative that painted Castiel as if he were a real hero. _Which he is_ , Sam acknowledged to himself.

 

Sam wasn’t surprised that he didn’t come across as well; there was no way Fitzgerald could put the same spin on Sam’s story. Though the reporter hadn’t dug too deeply, he didn’t gloss over the fact that Sam had been living under an alias with forged documents and that he had a history with Ruby. For the millionth time, Sam thanked the universe that his juvenile records were sealed. He remembered his crimes – figurative and literal – quite vividly; he didn’t want to read about them in the newspaper.

 

Sam dropped the page and hung his head. He’d felt so down and defeated after Thanksgiving – In a moment of weakness, he’d contacted Ruby, and of course, she’d been more than willing to hook him up. He’d only asked for something to take the edge off, but she’d also brought him a sampler pack of the hard stuff. He hated to admit that it had taken him two days to muster the courage to flush the drugs down the toilet.

 

Ruby had clearly expected Sam to use the samples and then get back into business with her; when he didn’t, she got angry. She’d called, demanding money for the samples. Sam had refused, ended the call, and blocked her number. Sam had thought she’d leave him alone after that, but instead, she’d shown up at the Gas ‘N Sip with her new boyfriend in tow. The rest was now a matter of police record.

 

Sam cringed as he read the final paragraph, where Fitzgerald mentioned that while there were rumors that the two men were engaged, which would make “Collins the brave knight who saved his partner in distress,” he couldn’t confirm the news. “Hospital policy prohibits any public statements about patients’ personal relationships,” he’d written. “But what a story this will be if it turns out to be true.”

 

Sam’s mouth twisted wryly. He’d only perpetuated the ruse because, even half-addled from painkillers and sleep, he’d known that having a partner like Castiel would make his family realize how much better he was doing and that he wasn’t a complete failure.

 

Sam crumpled the page up and tossed it towards the trashcan – only to watch helplessly as it bounced off the metal edge. The paper wad skid to a stop right as the door opened. Sam was surprised to see Charlie bounding through the door.

 

“Hey Sam!,” she exclaimed. “Ready to come to dinner?”

 

Sam lifted an eyebrow quizzically. “What are you talking about, Charlie?” Dr. Nick had made it quite clear that Sam wasn’t even allowed to get out of bed on his own yet.

 

Charlie laughed. “Just wait and see, Samuel. Wait and see.”

 

Sam fiddled anxiously with the hospital-issue blanket and hoped that Charlie wouldn’t notice the crumpled news page lying near her feet. He so did _not_ want to deal with the questions the discovery would bring. Sam sighed in relief when he realized that Charlie only had eyes for outlets.

 

 _But will my luck hold out?_ , he wondered.

 

\+ + + +

 

Once Charlie located an available outlet on the facing wall, she quickly got to work setting up her laptop. “Hmmm. You can see the screen from there, can’t you?” She adjusted the laptop to avoid the glare. “I can move the table if it helps,” she added, pulling the narrow table a bit further to the left.

 

“It’s fine, Charlie…You know that the hospital wifi’s probably locked, right?”

 

“Shhh, young grasshopper,” she retorted. “If I can hack a PAC, I can break Hale’s passcode.” Sam snorted but otherwise let her work in peace and, within five minutes, Charlie had access.

 

“Woo hoo!,” she cheered. Sam laughed, which made Charlie smile even more broadly – it had been much too long since she’d heard that sound. A few keystrokes later, and the camera indicator’s green light shone brightly.

 

She pulled out her cell but couldn’t get a signal. “I’ll be back,” she said. Sam gave her a wave, and she scurried out, heading for the north stairwell. She’d found out yesterday that it allowed the best reception. Charlie quickly sent Jo a triumphant text, and then headed back towards the room, waving to Hannah as she passed the nurse’s station.

 

Her steps faltered when she heard the rumble of a deep voice; it was _Dean’s_ voice, and he sounded tense, even angry. She peeked inside and saw Dean standing stiff, with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Sam had a narrow-eyed look, and his jaw was clenched.

 

Dean took a step forward, and his boot hit a wadded-up piece of newspaper that Charlie hadn’t noticed before. He picked it up and pulled the crumpled edges apart. “I would’ve thought this would be precious to you,” he said.

 

His attitude was almost mocking, and while Charlie couldn’t see what was on the page, the hard edge in her brother’s tone made her wince. Sam’s face drained of color. “It…uh… it…,” he stammered.

 

“Save it, Sam,” Dean barked.

 

Charlie jerked back before either brother saw her. Whatever this was, she did _not_ want to get dragged into it.

 

That didn’t stop her from pressing against the wall so that she could hear everything, though.

\+ + + +

 

“Jo? Are we set?,” Ellen asked, watching as her daughter accessed a program on her laptop.

 

“Yeah - Just got the all clear from Charlie.”

 

“Good,” Ellen said. She smiled broadly at Castiel. “That’s perfect, Castiel. Thank you.”

 

Castiel blushed. “I haven’t set a table in a long time,” he commented. “It’s nice.”

 

Ellen laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “Well, you’ve made our table beautiful,” she said warmly. “Why don’t you tell Bobby and John that it’s time for dinner?”

 

With a nod, Castiel headed back towards the living room where the older men were watching television.

 

Mary stood at the counter, making a plate for Sam. “Need some help?,” Ellen asked.

 

“Hand me that lid?,” Mary asked, nodding towards a green plastic lid in the dishrack.

 

Ellen fetched the lid. “Here you go.”

 

Mary snapped it on the glass container securely. “I hope this meets the doctor’s requirements,” she observed. “I made sure to only give him what Dr. Nick had approved.”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ellen said. “Whoever takes it can have a nurse check, if that makes you feel better.”

 

Mary nodded. “It would. I don’t want to do anything that will hinder his recovery.” Her eyes shone brightly. “I’m just so glad he’s okay.” She sniffled, and Ellen wrapped an arm around her.

 

“I know,” Ellen agreed. “I feel the same.” Mary leaned her head on Ellen’s shoulder, and the women stood together, silently.

 

John cleared his throat, and the women separated. Ellen stepped away, busying herself with putting the still-cooling biscuits in a basket.

 

“You about ready for me to deliver that?,” John asked Mary.

 

“Yes,” Mary said, handing the closed container to her husband. Ellen watched as John took the dish with one hand and used his other arm to hug his wife.

 

“Things will be okay, Mary,” he promised, kissing her cheek. “You’ll see.” He slipped on his coat from the rack and promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

 

Ellen was happy to see John making an effort. She glanced at Bobby and saw that he looked pleased, too. Castiel, though – he stood in the doorway, and Ellen could see curiosity and longing in his expression. She wondered what he thought of the Winchesters now, particularly since what had happened with Dean and Sam.

 

“Has anyone heard from Dean?,” Mary asked.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Ellen muttered, shrugging when Bobby shot her a sharp look.

 

“No,” Bobby answered. Ellen saw Castiel stiffen at Dean’s name. “I expect he’ll be here later,” Bobby added.

 

“I expect you’re right,” Ellen said. She set the breadbasket on the table and retrieved a fresh pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. “Everyone take a seat – Castiel, you sit at the head.”

 

“Oh, I can’t—,” he protested.

 

“You can, and you will. You’re our guest.”

 

“I’d just do as she says,” Bobby advised, clapping Castiel on the shoulder and directing him towards the chair. “I’ll keep you company,” he said, claiming the chair to Castiel’s right.

 

Mary sat down to Castiel’s left. “John can sit here,” Mary said, patting the back of the empty chair beside her.

 

Jo looked up from her spot one over from Mary. “I’m good here.”

 

“And Charlie will sit beside me,” Ellen said, taking the seat beside Bobby.

 

“That thing working yet?,” Bobby asked Jo.

 

“Yeah, I just had to reboot – the program automatically updated and messed up the connection. Charlie’s online, though, so I have to…” Jo’s voice trailed off as she typed in something. “Voila!,” she announced.

 

They could see Sam, in bed and staring towards the door. Jo turned on the volume, and Ellen was surprised to hear Dean’s voice blasting tinnily over the speakers, even though he wasn’t visible on camera. Though Ellen couldn’t make out the words, Dean’s tone made her cringe.

 

Ellen cast a look around the table and saw that everyone was staring at the screen in various states of disbelief – everyone except for Castiel, who was staring down at the table.

 

Dean walked towards the bed and threw something at Sam – a piece of newspaper it looked like. Ellen realized what it must be and shot a startled look at Bobby. She barely heard John exclaim “ _Christ_ ” before he strode into view of the camera and angrily dropped the covered dish onto Sam’s bed tray.

 

“Break it up, you two,” John ordered, holding a hand up at Dean.

 

“Stay out of this, dad,” Dean snapped.

 

“Dean, what the hell is going on?,” John asked. Ellen saw Sam shrink back onto the bed.

 

“Ask Sam,” Dean retorted.

 

John turned to his other son. “Well?”

 

Sam shook his head and said nothing.

 

John turned back to Dean. “Well?”

 

Dean took a step forward and John placed his hand square in the middle of Dean’s chest.

 

“Tell him, Sam,” Dean said. “Tell him about Ruby and the drugs and” – Dean’s voice broke – “ _Castiel_.”

 

John reared back. “Ruby? What does Ruby have to do with Castiel?”

 

“Nothing, Dad,” Sam spoke up. His voice sounded tired and defeated. “Castiel and Ruby don’t know each other.”

 

“No,” Dean agreed. “But Castiel and I _do_.”

 

\+ + + +

 

At the sight of Dean on the computer screen, Castiel had dropped his eyes – it physically hurt to look at Dean.

 

When Dean confessed to knowing him, though, Castiel’s head shot up. _Did Dean really say that_?

 

Dean _did_ say it – and he said more, too. He’d apparently learned from Officer Sands’ official report that Ruby’s phone records had revealed she’d been in contact with Sam as recently as last week.

 

“Sam? Is that true?” John asked.

 

Sam admitted that it was, and he stammered out an explanation that had John’s eyebrows crawling up his head. John swung back towards Dean. “But how does Castiel figure into this? Is he working with Ruby?”

 

Dean shook his head vehemently. “ _No_ ,” he insisted. “Castiel would _never—”_

“Then what are you going on about?,” John asked. “Castiel’s the best thing to happen to Sam…”

 

Mary laid her hand on Castiel’s arm and took his attention away from the live feed. “What’s he talking about, Castiel?”

 

Castiel bowed his head and blinked back tears – he’d wanted the truth to come out, but not like this. He forced himself to say the words: “I’m not engaged to Sam. I never was.”

 

Mary stared at him with an expression of (what Castiel interpreted as) horror. “Why didn’t you say anything?,” she asked.

 

“I didn’t know how to tell you – any of you,” Cas admitted. He swallowed hard. “Not even Dean.”

 

“Dean?” Mary asked, her head tilted in confusion.

 

John’s voice crackled over the speakers: “Are you saying that _you_ cheated with Sam’s fiancé?”

 

Castiel felt sick. There was no way that the Winchesters wouldn’t hate him after this.

 

A female voice that Castiel didn’t know interrupted the Winchesters’ argument. “Fiancé?,” she asked. The woman walked to Sam’s bedside, and Castiel recognized Sarah, Sam’s roommate, friend – and, according to Gabriel, Sam’s wannabe girlfriend. “Sam? What’s he talking about?”

 

John and Dean stared at the young woman. John drew up and looked between his sons, yelling, “Does someone want to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?”

 

Before anyone could answer, Zeke came barreling into the room, demanding order. Hannah and Dr. Nick were right on his heels.

 

“Shit,” Bobby muttered. “Mary, come with me. Ellen?”

 

“I’ll stay here,” Ellen said. “So will Jo.” Castiel felt Ellen’s eyes on him, but he refused to look away from the melee erupting on the screen. “Jo,” Ellen said, “Call Charlie - find out where she is.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Jo said and excused herself from the table to make the call.

 

Castiel continued watching the fracas unfold. When Zeke put a clearly enraged John in restraints, Castiel stood. “I should go,” he said.

 

Ellen eyed him. “You should stay, Castiel. Bobby and Mary will handle things at the hospital, and you should be here when Dean arrives.”

 

 _Dean_. Castiel shook his head mutely, more convinced than ever that he’d lost Dean for good.

 

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m – I’m sorry. Tell everyone I said I was sorry. Especially Dean.”

 

Ellen heaved a sad sigh. “Please, don’t.”

 

“I – I have to.” He met her eyes, though he could barely see through unshed tears. “I really enjoyed meeting all of you – it...it felt like I was part of a real family again, just for a little while.”

 

With that, Castiel left before he could begin crying in earnest. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was out the backdoor, then up the drive, then onto the sidewalk, and down the block. He kept going, even after realizing that he’d left his coat behind.

 

When the cold began wracking his body with shivers, he stoically endured because they mirrored the chill he felt in his soul. In the grand scheme of things, Castiel figured that losing the coat was symbolic. After all, he’d lost his heart, too.

 

\+ + + +


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12 and 13 are being uploaded at the same time.

 + + + +

 

Castiel was still walking when a light snow began to fall. He crossed his arms over his chest, slipping his hands inside his long sleeves. The position pulled at his injured arm, but he grit his teeth and bore the pain. He was _cold._

 

A car slowed beside him, but Castiel kept his eyes straight ahead. He was in no mood for chitchat or catcalls or anything else.

 

“Cassie?”

 

The sound of Gabriel’s voice got Castiel’s attention. His head whipped around. “Gabriel?”

 

Gabriel slammed on the brakes. “What in the hell are you doing? Get in.”

 

“I – I’m fine,” Castiel said, stammering from the cold.

 

“Yeah, right. And I’m an archangel. Get your ass in the car.” Gabriel jerked his thumb towards the passenger seat, and Castiel didn’t have to be told again.

 

Gabriel opened all the front vents and turned the fan on high; he turned on the heat for the passenger seat, too.

 

Castiel clenched his jaw so that his teeth wouldn’t chatter, but his effort was to no avail.

 

“My God, Castiel. Where’s your coat?”

 

“Lo-lost it.”

 

Gabriel shrugged out of his insulated ski jacket and draped it over Castiel’s front like a blanket.

 

“Th-thank yo-you,” Castiel said.

 

“Don’t speak. Just get warmed up.” Gabriel pulled out his cell and placed a call. Castiel assumed it was to Kali because Gabriel asked for whomever it was to put some soup on and hot water for tea.

 

“You’re coming home with me, bucko. And after we get you thawed out? You’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

 

Castiel nodded weakly. He dreaded telling Gabriel, but he knew the older man would wheedle the details out of him.

 

+

 

An hour later, Castiel was wrapped in a blanket with a pair of Gabriel’s thick woolen socks on his feet. He held a still-warm mug of chicken soup in his hands, courtesy of Kali, who’d actually hugged him when she saw his bedraggled state.

 

An affectionate Kali was definitely a sign of the apocalypse. Castiel realized then how bad he must look.

 

Gabriel had listened to Castiel’s story, his face somber. Castiel had expected his usual trickster-ish suggestions, but instead, Gabriel had simply said, “I’m sorry, Cassie. I really am.”

 

Kali had been listening, too, and while she didn’t comment, she’d refilled Castiel’s mug and squeezed his shoulder gently. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” she’d said. “If you need me, I’m in the kitchen working on a new recipe.”

 

Gabriel had grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “Thanks, love.”

 

She’d smiled at him and slipped out of the room, leaving Castiel and Gabriel alone.

 

Gabriel leaned back on the couch with his hands behind his head and stared off into the distance in what Castiel had come to recognize was his thinking pose. Castiel had nothing else to say anyway, so he sat and sipped at his broth and tried not to think of De—of certain people.

 

He was on his second mental recitation of “You Give Love a Bad Name” when Gabriel straightened. Castiel raised an eyebrow in a silent question, but Gabriel just regarded him for a long moment.

 

When Gabriel spoke, he spoke carefully. “May I give you some advice, Castiel?”

 

Castiel nodded, curious to see what had turned Gabriel’s tone so serious.

 

Gabriel took a breath and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped. He spoke earnestly. “I realize you’re hurting, and what I’m about to suggest may seem… odd. But I think you should take an extended vacation – go see Italy or France or any of the other places you hoped you’d get to visit with your dad.”

 

“But what about—“ Castiel cut himself off, unwilling to say the name. Gabriel had no such reluctance.

 

“Dean? Well, the way I see it, he enabled this situation as much as anyone. If he’s the real deal, he’ll come through.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?”

 

His expression somber, Gabriel said, “Then he’s not good enough for you. And you’ll have had the life-changing experience of traveling abroad. It’ll change your perspective forever.”

 

Castiel thought of the cost of such a trip and shook his head. “I can’t, Gabriel.”

 

“Can’t or won’t?” Gabriel picked up a large manila envelope from the coffee table and waved it in the air. “Because I’ve got papers here that say you’ve come into a tidy sum of money, my friend.”

 

Castiel startled, sloshing the remaining soup in his mug. “Careful there, tiger,” Gabriel cautioned, exchanging the envelope for Castiel’s mug. “Told you I’d do what I could.”

 

Castiel tore at the flap and pulled out a stack of documents. His hands shook as he picked up the letter from corporate that lay on top. He skimmed – and then skimmed again. The words began to make sense, and Castiel’s jaw dropped. “Eighty-five thousand? Gabriel, how—”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “I may have thrown a few extra pies in on Rufus’s haul. I think it softened him up. Man’s a sucker for a caramel glazed crust.”

 

“I just…” Castiel’s voice trailed off as he thought of all the things he could do now. He could pay off his dad’s medical debt, his own hospital bill, and travel. If he was careful, he could even start school in the fall.

 

Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick.

 

“You’re welcome,” Gabriel said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that this worked out, and I know things feel bleak right now… but this will give you a fresh start, Castiel. You just have to choose to take it.”

 

Castiel nodded, dazed, as his imagination brimmed with possibility. How was it that just hours ago, his world collapsed – and now he had _possibilities_?

 

Gabriel laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just think about it.”

 

“Okay,” Castiel agreed.

 

Gabriel snatched the remote from the table and sprawled back on the couch. “So, up for some _Downton Abbey_? PBS is running a marathon today.”

 

“Um - I’ve never seen it,” Castiel admitted.

 

Gabriel looked shocked. “Well, settle in, my friend. You’re catching up on the antics of Lady Mary _tonight_.”

 

Castiel shook his head and made to get up. “I should probably get going—”

 

Gabriel held up a hand. “Nope. You settle back in that chair because you are going _nowhere_ tonight.” He jerked a thumb towards the stairs. “Kali’s orders.”

 

As if on cue, Kali called from the kitchen, “The guest room’s ready.”

 

“Thanks, love,” Gabriel called back. To Castiel, he said, “It’s not a true guest room, but the fold-out in my office is pretty comfy, and you’ll be safe and warm.”

 

“But—“

 

“No buts. I already called Mrs. Angelo, and she’s feeding your kitty-monster as we speak.”

 

Castiel only had one protest left, but he didn’t want to voice his hope that Dean might come for him. He didn’t have to.

 

“Don’t worry about Dean either, Cassie. Remember what I said: If he’s the real deal, he’ll come through.”

 

Gabriel settled more comfortably on the couch. “Did I ever tell you that I met Kali while I was abroad?”

 

Castiel shook his head.

 

“Yeah, I was doing the youth hostel and camping thing, planning to work my way across Europe. I started out in Paris, and my first day, it started raining – monsoon-like rain, mind you, not a romantic drizzle or anything like that. I sought shelter in this little café, and there she was. She’d skipped her afternoon classes at the university to drink coffee and read a novel. Next thing I know, I’m prostrate at the feet of a goddess and begging her to marry me.” Gabriel stared off into space and a gentle smile played across his face. He came back to himself and pointed the remote at Castiel. “Good things happen. Just give it time.”

 

Castiel smiled, heartened by the story. “I will.”

 

“Good. Now, let’s see who Lady Mary verbally eviscerates this time.” Gabriel said, chuckling gleefully and upping the volume.

 

Though his mind was spinning and his body aching for rest, Castiel found himself drawn into the Crawleys' world. He lasted through one episode no problem but found himself fading out during the second.

 

“C’mon, Cassie,” Gabriel said, shaking his uninjured arm. Castiel blinked blearily, and realized he’d more than faded; he’d fallen asleep.

 

Consciousness dragged the day’s turmoil with it, but Castiel pushed it away, holding onto the edges of sleep as Gabriel guided him to the bed.

 

Gabriel drew back the covers. “Here you go,” he said.

 

Without a second thought, Castiel crawled into bed and collapsed. Gabriel pulled the covers over him, and Castiel managed to mumble a thank you.

 

The last thing Castiel heard was Gabriel chuckling and saying, “Sleep well.”

 

\+ + + +

 

“Can you produce verification of his PTSD?,” Officer Ezekiel asked Bobby.

 

“Yeah,” Bobby pulled out his wallet and dug out a card. “Here. Call his psychiatrist – Dr. Missouri Mosley. Her emergency number is on the back. She’ll give you whatever you need.”

 

Zeke took the card. “Thank you. Please, wait out here,” he said.

 

Zeke walked back towards the nurse’s station, and Bobby dropped into a chair in the small waiting area. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. All he wanted to do was go straight home and have Ellen massage his throbbing temples.

 

Nothing had gone as he’d hoped this evening. All hell had broken loose by the time he and Mary had arrived at the hospital. After the outburst that had warranted, in Zeke’s mind, restraints, John had become violently aggressive. Dean had stepped in to try and calm him, and John, who by this time had completely lost sense of where he was, elbowed his eldest son square in the jaw. John had been involuntarily sedated, and Dean was going to have a nasty bruise.

 

Neither Bobby nor Mary had been able to fully excuse John’s behavior – the man didn’t handle anger well and that was a fact. But they had been able to offer some context and inform Zeke and Dr. Nick of John’s service record and his history of PTSD. Restraining John usually brought on flashbacks that never ended well.

 

This information had gone a long way with Zeke, who was also a veteran, and he and Dr. Nick agreed that formal charges weren’t necessary. Bobby sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead with his palms. _What a day_.

 

Someone took the seat to his left, and he knew instinctively who it was.

 

“Well, that went well, didn’t it?,” Bobby asked.

 

Dean snorted. “Bout as well as anything else I try.”

 

Bobby pulled his baseball hat off and slapped it against his thigh. “Dammit, Dean. Don’t pull that pity-party crap with me.” Dean looked chagrined, his downcast expression only highlighting the red mark blossoming along his jaw. “I realize what you were trying to do, but your delivery – son, I just…”

 

“I know…I’m sorry.” Dean swallowed nervously. “Did – um – did Cas see?”

 

“Yeah, he did. I don’t know what happened after I left. He seemed pretty upset.”

 

Dean pulled out his phone. “Maybe I should call him?”

 

Bobby worried his lip while he thought. He wanted to see Dean and Castiel work things out – Dean had been happier this past month or so than he had been in a long time, and now that Bobby knew _why_ … well. He didn’t want Dean to lose that. And Castiel was a good kid.

 

“What do you want to say to him?,” Bobby asked.

 

Dean’s mouth worked a moment. “Everything.”

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow in surprise. Everything? This was definitely a new side of Dean.

 

“Well, maybe not everything,” Dean amended. “But something.”

 

Bobby bit off a laugh. Yeah, this was still his Dean. “I want you to talk to him, Dean, I do. But if you don’t know what to say yet, a phone call might only muddy the waters worse. You’ve both got some thinking _and_ some talking to do. Y’know?”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Dean stared at his phone a moment longer before slipping it back into his pocket. “I wish this had all gone differently.”

 

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder and squeezed. “Well, we can’t change what’s done. But we can do our damnedest to kick it in the ass and make things right.”

 

Dean nodded and blinked several times in rapid succession, calling attention to his eyes. Bobby saw how red they were and figured (rightly) that Dean was beyond his breaking point. Bobby’s heart twisted for the kid, so he changed the subject, asking, “Where’s your mother?”

 

“Fussing over Sam and Dad.” Dean shrugged. “Sam’s fine, though he still has a lot of explaining to do. His friend – Sarah? – is with him, too. Dad’s still out – thankfully.”

 

“Well, Zeke’s calling Missouri now.”

 

“Good. She’ll straighten things out.”

 

The two sat in silence listening to the ticking of the ancient wall clock.

 

“So, how close do you think Dad came to being tasered this time?,” Dean asked.

 

“Close enough that his eyebrows ought to be singed.”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

\+ + + +

 

It was over an hour before Ellen noticed Castiel’s coat. The thought of him wandering in the cold made her heart hurt, and when she found his cell in the coat’s pocket, worry twisted her stomach into knots.

 

How had he gotten home? Did he have money for a cab or bus fare? Bobby had said he lived too far from the rental house to walk. Her mind raced until she remembered that she had Gabriel’s number.

 

She dialed, and it went to voicemail. She left a halting message: “Mr. Hornblower? It’s Ellen Singer. I – um – I need to speak with you about… about Castiel. Please call me. It’s…it’s important.”

 

Ellen busied herself in the kitchen, putting away the un-eaten dinner and washing dishes. Mary had sent Charlie back to the house, so she and Jo were watching a movie in the living room.

 

The house was much too quiet for Ellen’s liking, and she was worried about all of her boys – whatever Sam had gotten mixed up in again, Dean’s anger and heartbreak, and now Castiel…

 

She was rinsing the dishes when her phone rang. She grabbed for the phone, cursing when it slipped from her wet hand. She scrubbed a palm down her thigh, drying it enough that she could pick the phone up off the counter and answer it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Ellen, it’s Gabriel.”

 

“Oh, thank you for calling me – I’m trying to find Castiel. He left his phone and coat here, and I’m worried…”

 

Gabriel interrupted. “No worries. He’s here at my house. I found him walking on the side of the street half-frozen. The kid was really messed up.”

 

Ellen sighed. “Did he tell you what happened?”

 

“He did.” Gabriel’s tone made it clear that he was not impressed with the situation. “I don’t like how this turned out.”

 

“I don’t either. Dean’s still at the hospital with the rest of the family, but I know he’s going to want to talk with Castiel.”

 

“Is that really such a good idea?”

 

“I think that it’s not up to us,” Ellen said firmly. She wasn’t sure what was best for Dean or Castiel, but she knew she was leaving it firmly in their hands.

 

This time, Gabriel sighed. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. I do think, though, that Castiel needs a few days, to clear his head and get centered. He’s been through so much this past year, and I don’t want him overwhelmed.”

 

“I understand that completely. For what it’s worth, I think Dean needs to get centered too.” She hesitated. “Will – Will Castiel be with you? Is he okay, physically at least?”

 

“He’s here for at least the next day,” Gabriel answered. “And he’s okay. We got him thawed out, and he’s sawing logs in the guest room. Kali’s going to keep an eye on him tomorrow, too.”

 

“I’m glad. Thank you so much for calling me,” Ellen said. “I really do care about Castiel, and whatever happens with him and Dean, I want him to be okay.”

 

“That is something we definitely agree on, Ellen,” Gabriel said. “I’ll give you an update tomorrow, okay?”

 

They said their goodbyes, and Ellen hung up the phone feeling reassured. Dean wasn’t going to take the suggestion to stand down well, but she knew in her gut it was the right thing to do.

 

Ellen put the phone down and finished rinsing the dishes, contemplating as she did exactly how the family’s come-to-Jesus moment was going to happen. Because she was going to make damn sure it did.

 

\+ + + +

 

Mary elected to stay at the hospital overnight, just in case John woke up, so Bobby and Dean headed home. The drive was quiet, and when they walked in, and Castiel was nowhere to be seen, Dean hunched his shoulders.

 

“He left, didn’t he?”

 

Ellen wrapped her arms around him. “He did, sweetie, but he’s okay. He’s at his boss’s house.”

 

Dean pulled out of her embrace and got his phone out. “Maybe I should call him?”

 

“No use, honey,” Ellen said sympathetically. She pointed to Castiel’s coat still hanging on the rack. “He left his phone in his coat pocket.”

 

Dean swallowed hard. “You mean he was so upset that he walked out in the freezing cold _without his coat_?”

 

Ellen laid her hand on Dean’s arm. “He’s okay now, Dean. That’s what’s important.”

 

Bobby noticed Ellen’s evasion, even if Dean didn’t, and he appreciated it. The boy was already sick with worry and heartache. Ellen tenderly brushed Dean’s hair back from his forehead. “Can I get you anything? An ice-pack for that bruise?”

 

Dean shook his head. “No. I – um. I think I’ll just head to bed.”

 

“We’ll see you in the morning, then.”

 

Dean nodded, and Bobby and Ellen watched him. Bobby noticed how Dean’s head was bowed, his walk shuffled. When Dean went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, Bobby walked straight into Ellen’s outstretched arms and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

 

“Ye gods,” he muttered. “My head is killing me.”

 

She slipped his hat off, and Bobby sighed as her magic fingers ran through his hair and began slowly massaging his temples. “Why don’t we get you some aspirin and put you to bed?,” she asked.

 

“Sounds like heaven,” he admitted, brushing a kiss against her cheek before stepping back to stretch. “Where’re the girls?”

 

“Bed,” Ellen said, as she retrieved the water pitcher from the refrigerator. “Or rather, they’re probably online but they’ve turned in for the night. I think they’re hoping to avoid the fallout.”

 

Bobby glanced at the wall clock; it was pushing midnight. “I didn’t even realize how long I was gone.” He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and set them on the island.

 

Ellen poured and glanced towards the hallway where Dean’s room was located. “It’s been a long day for everyone, I think.”

 

Bobby took a long drink. “You’re not kidding.”

 

“How’s John?,” Ellen asked.

 

“Still sedated. Mary’s staying the night with him. They’ll re-evaluate him in the morning and decide if he can be released.”

 

“What a mess,” Ellen said, handing Bobby a couple of aspirin. “Here.”

 

Bobby accepted the pills gratefully, tossing them back and finishing off his water. Ellen refilled the glass and put the pitcher away. “So what does this mean long term?”

 

“So long as he doesn’t have another episode, it means nothing except that he has to see Missouri weekly for at least two months. He got off easy.”

 

“Was it really that bad?”

 

“Yeah. If Zeke hadn’t restrained him, it might not have been, but John must’ve had one hell of a flashback, and he lost it.”

 

“How’s Dean holding up?”

 

“You saw him,” Bobby said, jerking a thumb towards the hallway. “He’s been like that all evening. Acts like he’s walking a high wire and terrified of falling.”

 

Ellen frowned. “I talked to him earlier about taking care of himself. He’s killing his spirit, and this thing with Castiel –”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Bobby said soberly. “How is Castiel, really?”

 

Ellen shook her head. “Gabriel says he’s okay, but the poor thing was half frozen when Gabriel found him. I just didn’t want to say that in front of Dean.”

 

“Understandable.” Bobby regarded his wife, suspecting that she was already cooking up a solution. “So what’s the next step?”

 

“It’s time for a family meeting – the no-holds barred, it all comes out kind of meeting. I’m not sitting by and watching Dean kill himself trying to make everyone happy or Sam fall back into dangerous habits.”

 

Bobby smiled. This was his Ellen – taking charge and setting the world ablaze.

 

“Did you know that Sam’s been in touch with Charlie this whole time?”

 

“Huh. Well, we suspected as much,” Bobby said.

 

“Yeah, but to have her confirm it – he put her in the middle, made her lie to their parents, and he doesn’t even see…”

 

Bobby wrapped an arm around Ellen’s waist. He loved her spunk, but it wasn’t going to do any good to get all riled up now. “Breathe, hon,” he said. He kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t we get some shut-eye, and tackle all this in the morning.”

 

Ellen sighed and leaned against Bobby’s chest. “You’re right. I just… I’ve been stewing here all night unable to do _anything_ , and sometimes it makes me so mad that John’s so blind and that Mary doesn’t take that bull-headed idjit by the horns and make him _see_.”

 

Bobby hugged her tightly. “I know. But, hey, that’s what they have us for, right?”

 

Her laughter had a bitter tinge, but Ellen nodded in agreement. “Okay, then, old man. Let’s get to bed.”

 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel had slept a dreamless sleep. When he woke, he had to squint against the bright light filling the room.

 

“What time is it?,” he muttered aloud, fumbling at the side table for his phone.

 

It wasn’t there. That’s when Castiel’s eyes snapped open, and he looked around the room. He was at Gabriel’s home, in the guest bed. Castiel groaned and flopped back on the mattress, arm thrown across his eyes. He wished he could forget that yesterday had ever happened, yet he found himself reliving the events anyway.

 

Castiel didn’t know how long he’d lain there when a crystal clear memory of his dying father’s voice filtered through his heartbreak: “I’m grateful for my life, Castiel. For your mom, for you – for the chance to live and love. We only get one shot. Promise me that you’ll always make the most of yours.”

 

“I promise, dad,” he whispered aloud. Castiel sat up and wiped the tear tracks from his face. He swung his feet to the floor and made himself get out of bed. It was time to set his life to rights.

 

\+ + + +

 

Two and a half weeks later, Dean walked into the Gas ‘N Sip where he and Castiel had met. He looked around the store and felt a sinking disappointment when he didn’t see those vivid blue eyes and kind smile.

 

He caught a glimpse of dark hair through the stockroom window, and a thrill ran through him – was that…?

 

But, no, a young girl with pinned-up dark hair and big blue eyes – really, she could pass for Cas’s sister – was coming through the door. Dean glanced at her nametag, Hael, and remembered Cas mentioning her once or twice. “Can I help you, sir?,” she asked.

 

“No, I – um. Maybe? I’m looking for Castiel.”

 

“Oh. _Oh!_ ,” she exclaimed. “Wait a moment, please?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, watching with confusion as she darted back through the doors. That flicker of hope he’d been holding onto danced in his chest again. Was Castiel here after all?

 

Dean watched through the door’s small window as a shorter man with dirty-blonde hair came striding purposefully down the hall.

 

“Oh shit,” Dean muttered, backing away from the door. This dude did not look happy.

 

The dude really looked unhappy when he flung the door open and motioned for Dean to follow him. Hael slipped past Dean, giving him a sad smile.

 

Dean’s feet felt leaden, but he forced himself to follow the shorter man back down the hallway.

 

“In here,” the guy said, entering an office marked “Manager.” His deskplate read “Gabriel Hornblower,” and Dean had to fight a rush of rage. _This_ was the man who’d told Ellen that Castiel wanted space. If it hadn’t been for him… No. Dean stopped his racing thoughts. This mess wasn’t this dude’s fault.

 

“Sit.”

 

It wasn’t a request, and Dean didn’t take kindly to commands, but he listened anyway.

 

Gabriel braced his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “So. Took you long enough.”

 

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “Well, if you’re Castiel’s great love, I kind of expected you – oh, I don’t know. Two weeks ago?”

 

Dean grit his teeth. “You told my aunt that Cas wanted space. I gave him space.” Dean didn’t mention the aftermath of John’s episode or the chaos that ensued when Dean quit the family business or the tensions that erupted when Sam was relocated to a Sioux Falls rehab center to continue his recovery.

 

Gabriel’s eyes were shrewd, as if he knew the whole story already – and hell, maybe he did. For all Dean knew, Gabriel and Ellen had talked already. Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Really? You haven’t tried to contact Castiel at all?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course I would’ve called him if he had a phone.” He swallowed. “I tried emailing, but he – um. He didn’t answer. So I thought he didn’t want to talk yet.”

 

“So then if you think he still needs space, why are you here?”

 

Dean shook his head and took a deep breath, trying not to think of the anguish he’d felt these past weeks as he sorted his life out. “I – I miss him. I mean, I just met him really, but… my life is emptier without him.” He wiped his teary eyes and braced himself for scoffing laughter, but when he looked up, Gabriel’s expression was entirely serious.

 

“You don’t say,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. “He means that much to you?”

 

“He’s everything,” Dean said quietly.

 

Gabriel eyed him, and Dean fought the urge to fidget under such close scrutiny. Instead, he held Gabriel’s gaze until the man nodded. Dean sighed with relief when Gabriel opened a drawer and turned his attention to rifling through its contents.

 

“Truth be told, I was hoping you’d show,” Gabriel remarked. He drew out an envelope and threw it in Dean’s lap. “Don’t miss your flight.”

 

Dean stared at Gabriel in confusion. “What?”

 

“You want to be with Cassie, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “How does that involve a flight?”

 

“Castiel’s in Europe, and he’ll be in Italy in three days. So will you.”

 

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Italy’s not the Gas ‘N Sip. How do you expect me to find him?”

 

Gabriel snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Dean glared, evoking a smug grin from Gabriel. “Just give me your digits. I’ll make sure you can find Castiel.”

 

\+ + + +

 

Castiel’s journey had begun in Paris. He’d spent hours walking along the Seine River, watching the boats, the people, and even the Parisian ducks. It had been magical. He’d followed that with a short literary tour of England, walking along the moors of the Brontës, visiting Bath like the Austens, and ending in London, where he’d visited as many landmarks as he could. Gabriel had helped him plot his way, so he’d known where to find hostels and cheap food. He’d even been able to stretch the money he’d allotted for the trip to include Italy. And, now, he was staring up at the Colosseum.

 

The history of the place hung heavy in the air; Castiel fancied that it seeped from the pores of the ancient stones, imbuing the atmosphere with something akin to magic. Castiel thought for a moment of his dad and wished he were here to witness this. He lifted his face to the morning sun and offered a prayer that his father somehow knew Castiel was finally traveling the world. He’d gotten his passport when he was eighteen so that he and his dad could take their long hoped-for trip abroad but… well. Life simply hadn’t allowed that. Thoughts of his father led him to thinking of the Winchesters and Singers. He still missed feeling like a part of their world, though he’d reluctantly agreed when Gabriel had pointed out, “You can’t join a family like you do the marines, Cassie.”

 

Castiel caught sight of a tall man with short brown hair and broad shoulders up ahead. He frowned as he watched the man enter an outdoor café; the man’s stance reminded him of Dean, and that piercing loss Castiel felt keenly. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d nearly logged onto his email at least a million times to see if Dean had written him, or even to initiate a message himself. But Castiel had refrained -- deep down, he knew that Gabriel was right: Castiel needed this experience. He needed to step out on his own, to take charge, to stop being afraid.

 

As the sidewalk became more crowded, Castiel threaded his way carefully through the pedestrians, skirting right by the café’s patio.

 

“Geez, Cas. You’re not even going to speak?”

 

Castiel froze. He turned to face the man – yes, it _was_ the one he’d noticed – who’d turned around in his seat and was smiling broadly at Castiel.

 

 _Dean._ Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn’t hear the crowd anymore for the blood thundering in his ears.

 

In disbelief, he asked, “Dean?”

 

Dean stood, now inches away. Only the short, wrought-iron fence separated them.

 

“Yeah, Cas, it’s me.” Dean bit his lip nervously before motioning at the table behind him. “You – uh – want to join me?”

 

Castiel nodded, too dumbstruck to speak. “Here,” Dean held out a hand. “I’d jump the fence if I were you – that group can’t seem to decide what they’re doing.” He inclined his head towards the traveling group currently clogging the entrance.

 

Castiel gulped and took Dean’s hand. A frisson of electricity shot up Castiel’s arm, and he shivered.

 

“You cold?” Dean’s brow furrowed with concern.

 

“No – I, um.” Castiel blushed. “I’m fine.” He let Dean help him over the fence and took the seat beside Dean’s.

 

They placed their orders for coffee and pastries and settled into an awkward silence.

 

“I got you something,” Dean said abruptly. “Well, actually, two somethings.” He pulled two packages – a larger one wrapped in brown paper and the other in a small gift bag – from his messenger bag and set them in front of Castiel.

 

Castiel’s surprise must have shown in his face because Dean flushed and dropped his eyes. “It’s nothing much,” he said.

 

Castiel opened the larger package first, gasping when he saw what was inside. “Dean!,” he exclaimed, lifting his well-worn coat from the packaging.

 

“I – um. I thought you might want it back? It’s not really a gift, obviously, but I didn’t want anything to happen to it. I’ve carried it around with me for weeks now.”

 

Castiel lunged over, hugging Dean impulsively around the neck. “This is – this is great. I’d wanted to come back for it – this was my dad’s – but I just…I just couldn’t. Not yet.”

 

“No, I get it,” Dean said. He smiled softly. “I’m glad it’s back with you now.”

 

Castiel met Dean’s eye, and they stared at one another for a long moment until Dean broke eye contact, clearing his throat. “Go on. Open the other one.”

 

Castiel nodded, digging into the gift bag. This time, he was left speechless, and he gaped at dean.

 

“I –uh – I’m sorry. It’s stupid.” Dean’s face had flushed crimson, and he reached for the gift.

 

Castiel shook his head vehemently and held the gift out of Dean’s grasp. “No, it’s perfect.”

 

Dean froze, his hand still in the air. “What?”

 

Castiel shook his head. He unzipped his backpack and retrieved a small wrapped object of his own. “This is for you,” he said with a smile.

 

Dean ducked his head, but he took it. “I –uh. Thanks, Cas.” Castiel’s lips twitched as he watched Dean very carefully unwrap the present. He couldn’t wait to see Dean’s reaction.

 

Once he’d removed the wrapping, Dean looked from the gift to Castiel, before throwing his head back in a full-bodied laugh. Castiel gave into the mirth he’d been repressing and the two laughed long and loud, attracting amused looks in their direction.

 

When Castiel could speak, he stammered out, “We – we really are quite a pair, aren’t we?”

 

“Definitely,” Dean said, as he set his snow globe of the Colosseum beside Castiel’s matching one. “Wait,” he said, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “You said ‘pair.’ Does that mean—” Dean took a deep breath and added pleadingly, “Tell me I didn’t fly across the ocean in a flimsy metal tube for nothing?”

 

Castiel impulsively reached for Dean’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You didn’t fly over for nothing,” he assured Dean.

 

Dean’s eyes searched Castiel’s. “No, I flew over for _everything_.” His free hand cupped Castiel’s cheek, and Castiel instinctively leaned into the touch.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Castiel murmured, pressing kiss to Dean’s palm.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Dean said. The distance between them closed, and when Dean’s lips claimed his, Castiel knew that he’d found his chance to love.

 

And he was going to make the most of it.

 

\+ + + +

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dear readers,_   
>  _You probably noticed that this is the first time we hear directly from Dean. This is on purpose: Since Castiel has the primary POV, to simplify the narrative, I chose to only give Dean his voice after he comes into his own. I hope the symbolism of this works for you!_   
>  _As always, thank you for reading!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12 and 13 are being uploaded at the same time.

**Epilogue**

 

“Stop fidgeting,” Castiel ordered. He smacked Dean’s hand lightly and took Dean’s tie in hand. “Look up.”

 

Dean obliged, and Castiel straightened the knot. “There,” he said, resting his hands on Dean’s chest and noticing that Dean's fingers now beat an erratic rhythm against his thighs. Castiel shook his head.

 

Dean arched an eyebrow. “What?”

 

Castiel smiled wryly. “You. You’re so nervous, but you have no reason to be.”

 

Dean expression was pained. “That’s what you think. You’re not exactly _unbiased_ , you know.”

 

Castiel slid his hands across Dean’s shoulders, smoothing the seams of his jacket. “I’m not,” he agreed, running his hands down Dean’s arms and capturing his anxious hands. “But I still know what I’m talking about. You’re a good photographer – a great one. You deserve to have your own gallery.” Castiel punctuated his praise by kissing Dean lightly.

 

Dean pressed in, but Castiel drew back, smirking. “No fair,” Dean declared, his eyes twinkling.

 

Castiel squeezed his hands. “I’ll make it up to you.”

 

Dean waggled his eyebrows. “Promise?”

 

“Cross my heart,” Castiel said. “Ready?”

 

Dean sighed. “As I’ll ever be.” Hands still clasped, they left the safe confines of their office and headed out onto the floor.

 

\+ + + +

 

Dean’s eyes widened when he saw the crowd milling about, looking at the work he had on display, chatting, and gorging on the hors d'oeuvres that Kali and Gabriel had prepared.

 

“Wow,” Dean exclaimed.

 

“I told you they’d do an amazing job,” Castiel said. “I won’t be surprised if Gabriel quits the store to do this full time soon.”

 

Dean grabbed a stuffed mushroom from a passing server’s platter and popped it into his mouth. “Ohmygod,” he moaned through the mouthful. He chewed and swallowed. “He really should.”

 

“Dean!”

 

Dean turned towards the sound of Ellen’s voice. She and Bobby were threading their way through the crowd. Dean cackled at the sight of Bobby in a suit, his hair slicked down.

 

“Shut it,” Bobby said gruffly.

 

“You look very nice,” Castiel commented. “So do you, Ellen.”

 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” Ellen said, patting Castiel’s cheek. “When are you two going to visit us again?”

 

Dean shared an amused look with Castiel. No matter how often they visited, Ellen and Mary felt they should visit more.

 

“Hopefully soon,” Castiel answered diplomatically. Dean squeezed his hand in appreciation.

 

“Definitely soon,” Dean added, smiling. “So what do you think of the new digs?”

 

“It’s amazing,” Ellen said.

 

“And your photos aren’t half bad either,” Bobby piped in. “I like the name, too.”

 

Dean smiled. Faith Works had been the only name that had fit. When Cas had given it his blessing too, Dean had known that was the one to go with. “Thanks,” he said.

 

Castiel tugged at his hand, and Dean turned to him. “I see your parents over there,” Cas said, nodding towards the door where the crowd had gotten rather congested. “I’ll go get them.”

 

Dean watched fondly as Castiel worked his way through the crowd, smiling and talking and directing people as to where to go – by the time he reached the Winchester clan, he’d managed to disperse the crowd.

 

“He’s a natural,” Ellen observed.

 

“He really is. He’s a great partner.”

 

“In more ways than one,” Bobby observed.

 

Dean caught their knowing glances and smug smiles, and his face grew hot. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed.

 

“So when are you going to make an honest man out of him?,” Ellen asked. “You two are coming up on – what? Four years now?”

 

“Five,” Dean answered. “Five years today.”

 

Ellen smiled broadly and elbowed Bobby. “Told you he’d remember.”

 

“Of course I remember,” Dean retorted indignantly.

 

Ellen patted his arm. “Of course you do, dear. We’re just teasing you. We would like to see great nieces and nephews before we die, though. Just saying.”

 

Dean shook his head and laughed. One thing he could say about his family: They were master guilt trippers.

 

“Someday,” he promised. He caught sight of Gabriel waving frantically. “Um – tell the fam I’ll catch up with everyone later? There’s something I’ve gotta take care of.”

 

\+ + + +

 

“So you think it’s tonight?,” Bobby asked, watching Dean stride purposefully towards the back room that Gabriel had claimed as catering headquarters.

 

“Betcha twenty dollars and a back massage.”

 

“Done,” Bobby said. He hoped Ellen won.

 

\+ + + +

 

“Castiel! Give me a hug.”

 

Castiel gladly did as Mary ordered. “Hey, mom,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

 

John patted him on the back. “It’s good to see you, son.”

 

“You too, dad,” Castiel said with a smile. They’d gotten off to such a rocky start all those years ago, but he’d come to truly know and love the Winchesters. Mary had asked him to call her mom soon after he and Dean had moved in together, which had been easy enough to do. Calling John “dad” had taken a bit longer – and sometimes, Castiel still sidestepped it because it was such a precious title. At John's prompting, they had talked about it once, and John had said he’d completely understood and to use whatever felt most natural.

 

Charlie, still an effervescent ball of sunshine, looped her arms around Castiel’s neck, hugging him tightly. “It’s so good to see you, Cas.”

 

“You too, Charlie,” he said, hugging her back. She’d become the little sister he’d never known he wanted, and he loved her to distraction.

 

Castiel nodded in the direction where he’d left Dean and the Singers. “Dean’s over there – He’ll be happy to see you. Where’s everyone else?”

 

“Sam's looking for a parking space. Sarah and Jo are with him.”

 

Castiel laughed. “He’ll probably have to pay for the parking deck.”

 

Mary rolled her eyes. “That would be logical, Castiel. Sam refuses to pay for parking.”

 

“Nothing wrong with that,” John muttered.

 

“Yet where did we park tonight?,” Mary retorted. She added for Castiel’s benefit, “Of course, I paid because I didn’t want his blood pressure to skyrocket.”

 

John groaned. Catching sight of something across the room, he stood on his tiptoes. “Hey, is that shrimp I see?”

 

“It is,” Castiel answered. “And it’s amazing.”

 

“Well, I know where I’m headed,” John grinned, leaving them to stake out the refreshments table.

 

“He’s really quite proud of Dean – and you,” Mary said, linking her arm through Castiel’s. He held out his other arm to Charlie, and she took it with a smile.

 

“He is,” Charlie said. “He’s told all the guys at the bait and tackle about the gallery, and he’s even figured out how to bookmark websites so he can keep track of the articles being written about you both.”

 

Castiel ducked his head. “I’m glad. I know Dean’s really nervous about tonight. He still worries.”

 

“I know,” Mary said sadly. “But I’m glad that John’s learned to be more supportive, and I hope that helps Dean.”

 

“I think it does,” Castiel said. “Did you see his newest photos? They’re over on the far wall. I can show you—”

 

Gabriel’s booming voice interrupted Castiel’s conversation. “Dear patrons, visitors, and all-around good people. May I have your attention, please?” He tapped the microphone until the loud room quieted.

 

Castiel recognized the look on Gabriel’s face – he was up to something. Castiel raised an eyebrow in silent question, but Gabriel, who was looking straight at him, only grinned.

 

When the room was largely silent, Dean stepped up, taking the microphone from Gabriel. “Hey, y’all. I just want to say thanks for coming tonight. It means a lot to me that you’re here, and I hope that you’ll see something you like tonight.” He cleared his throat nervously. Castiel wanted to wrap his arms around Dean and never let go; the man was completely endearing.

 

“Some of you have asked where the name Faith Works comes from. I’m not particularly religious, but a few years ago, I was in a bad place. I wasn’t happy, and the one person who made my life a little better” – Dean looked directly at Castiel when he said this, and Castiel’s heart jumped into his throat – “I’d kept at arm’s length. Some wise people told me to have faith, in myself and in the people I loved. It was hard, but I did it, and my life today is infinitely richer. I can honestly say that I am a happy man who has everything he needs.” Dean paused and took a deep breath. “However...there is still something that I want.”

 

Gabriel suddenly appeared at Castiel’s side. “Ladies,” he said, with a nod to Mary and Charlie. “I need to borrow Castiel a moment.”

 

“What are you doing?,” Castiel hissed. “I don’t want to miss—”

 

“Loverboy’s speech. Yeah, yeah. I got it. You won’t. I promise.”

 

To avoid creating a scene, Castiel allowed Gabriel to guide him through the crowd.

 

“What are you doing?,” he whispered as Gabriel pulled him in front of the crowd and – finally – in front of Dean.

 

“And here he is,” Dean said, smiling. When Dean held out a hand, Castiel took it. He didn’t know what was going on, and there were butterflies in his stomach. Dean couldn’t be doing what he thought he was… could he?

 

Dean handed the microphone to Gabriel, who took it and winked at Castiel.

 

When Dean dropped to one knee, Castiel realized that, yes, this _was_ happening. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on Dean, ignoring the excited tittering and exclamations from the audience. Dean took Castiel’s left hand between his own. His green eyes were dancing when he asked, “So, what do you say, Cas? Will you marry me?”

 

Wordlessly, Castiel tugged Dean up and kissed him hard. “I love you,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips.

 

“I love you back,” Dean said. He drew back a bit. “But you didn’t answer my question.” Dean held up the ring, grinning when Castiel held out his left hand.

 

“Of course I’ll marry you,” Castiel said. A chorus of whoops erupted across the room, and even without looking, Castiel could clearly pick out Sam, Charlie, Jo, and Gabriel's contributions from the crowd.

 

Dean slipped the ring on, beaming the entire time. Castiel looked closely at his hand and began to laugh.

 

“What? Should I be worried?,” Dean asked.

 

Castiel shook his head and reached into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out a small ring box. Ooos and aaahs again erupted across the room.

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

“Nope,” Castiel said. He quirked an eyebrow. “So, Dean, will you marry me?”

 

“Until the end of time,” Dean promised, popping the box open and slipping the ring on his finger. “Now, c’mere,” he said, pulling Castiel into his arms.

 

The applause in the room was deafening – and it got only louder when Dean took the kiss from PG to PG-13.

 

\+ + + +

 

“Hand it over,” Ellen ordered, holding her hand out for Bobby’s twenty. “I get a back massage too, don’t forget.”

 

“Never in a million years,” Bobby said, kissing her sweetly on the temple and grinning when Ellen blushed.

 

\+ + + +

 

“How in the world did the two of you pick such similar rings?,” Sam asked. “They might as well be a matched set.”

 

“That’s the beauty of them,” Dean commented, holding his hand up beside Castiel’s. “Not exactly the same, but still a perfect set. Right, Cas?”

 

Castiel gazed at Dean, his expression soft. “Absolutely,” he agreed.

 

Sam snorted. “I never thought I’d see the day when you were such a romantic, Dean.”

 

Dean laughed and slid an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him close. “Castiel brings it out in me.”

 

“Yeah, he does.” Sam looked thoughtful a moment. “I know Dean pretty much fell in love at first sight, but when did you fall in love with him, Cas?”

 

Dean looked at Castiel curiously; this was something they hadn’t discussed before. Castiel thought about it a moment and then smiled. “It was while you were sleeping,” he teased.

 

Dean guffawed and slapped Sam on the shoulder. “That’s right, Sammy. You snooze, you lose.”

 

“ _Dean!_ ,” Sam exclaimed in a strangled voice. “You know that I –”

 

Dean waved his other hand, cutting off the millionth apology Sam had offered for what had happened that long-ago Christmas.

 

Sam laughed awkwardly and wrapped an arm around both Dean and Castiel, hugging them at the same time. “Congratulations, guys,” he said. “Really. I’m so happy for you both.”

 

“Sam!,” Charlie called. “Come help! I need someone to help Gabe with the pie while I set up the music.”

 

“There’s pie?,” Dean asked.

 

“Of course,” Castiel answered. “I asked Gabriel to make peach, like the one we ate the night we met.”

 

Dean gazed at Castiel fondly and pressed a kiss to his temple. “And Sammy calls me the romantic.” Dean pulled him closer, and Castiel leaned into Dean’s side, enjoying the feel of Dean’s hand on his hip and the weight of his new ring on his finger.

 

Castiel surveyed the room, happy to see the faces of those who’d become so dear to him still celebrating on his and Dean’s behalf. So many in the community had dropped by, too – Mrs. Angelo, Metatron Jr., even Hannah and Dr. Nick, who were now married. Castiel felt one absence deeply, though, and he wished for the millionth time that his father was still with him.

 

Dean tightened his grip. “Deep thoughts?”

 

Castiel smiled. “I’m thinking of how lucky we are,” he said. “And how much I wish dad were still here. He would’ve loved you.”

 

Dean leaned his head against Castiel’s. “Well, I already love him. He gave me you.”

 

Castiel turned, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and nestling his head under Dean’s chin. With Dean’s strong arms around him, Castiel felt safe and loved.

 

When Dean spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. “One thing I can promise you? Our love will be everlasting.”

 

“Yes it will,” Castiel agreed. “It was worth waiting for.”

 

Their moment was interrupted by Gabriel bellowing, “Hey, assbutts! Stop snuggling and get over here – this pie’s getting cold!”

 

Dean and Castiel laughed as they drew apart; they kept their hands joined as they walked across the now nearly-empty gallery floor. Their family had taken over the now-closed gallery, setting up a celebration that lasted until the wee hours of the morning.

 

The newly engaged couple held onto each other all night, which was much how their lives together would go: They were stronger together than apart and shared an abiding love that became legendary among those who knew them.

 

_And when all was said and done, they lived happily ever after._

 

\+ + + +

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dearest readers,_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _If you're familiar with the film, then you know I diverged in major ways - there are many reasons for that, the primary one being that I didn't want Sam to be the "putz" that Peter is in the film. I also wanted to update some of the narrative twists, so sidestepped some of the film's. Still, though, I tried to preserve enough bits of dialogue to keep the feeling of "While You Were Sleeping" intact. I hope it works!_
> 
> _I really loved writing this fic, and I hope that you've enjoyed reading it! If you're interested, next up on my fic agenda is writing the long-planned timestamp/companion fic to Heaven's Most Wanted; I can't yet speculate when it will be ready to post, though._
> 
> _Thank you for reading and for your kudos and kind comments! You're all awesome <3 _


End file.
